Automaton
by tiffanybane
Summary: Thomas has a plan. A master plan to get into Craig's pants. It's just that nobody was expecting it to work for Tweek, too.
1. Chapter 1

Hi, hello, welcome to my creek story (:

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.

Tweek's point of view:

* * *

><p>I thought it was strange how Thomas always asked about Craig Tucker.<p>

It started three months ago, just before the summer of our junior year. He had been very subtle with his questions back then, and for a while I hadn't thought it odd. Curiosity had been my reasoning behind his sudden interest. The tall, brooding, dark haired teen wasn't anything less than a mystery so it was a plausible explanation. "Curious" just didn't seem to fit, though, when his wonderment began turning into the want of certain details and characteristics that he didn't necessarily _need_ to know.

I felt horrible that I was the one who'd fed him the information he now valued very deeply as I watched his slight infatuation quickly turn into an obsession. It was unhealthy. That was why, for the safety of my best friend and because Craig definitely wasn't the type of person to be messed with, I decided to figure out just what exactly Thomas was trying to get at.

"Why are you doing this?" I finally asked.

We were in our fourth period, Stained Glass. Thankfully we didn't have to do anything but talk the entire hour. The class was constantly noisy as students threw q-tips with glue on their butts onto the ceiling, and our work couldn't even be considered half-assed as every project we turned in was basically just random panels of glass soldered together in five minutes or less, all of which we got full credit for.

Thomas gave me a confused look, dropping his eyes momentarily to the sheets of blue glass he was holding before setting them down. They clanked together on the table top. "I was just trying to see which shades go best together, dude." I noticed that one of the colors was nearly translucent with minuscule speckles of pastel blue.

_Please, _please_ don't be trying to go for Craig's eye color. _"I'm not talking about that, man. Tell me why you're so into Craig. I mean, if he's going to die and you've been prophesied with saving his life then by all means go for it, dude. But—Sweet Jesus. Holy _shit_, man. You're—" Thomas's cheeks flamed. He knew exactly of the conclusion that I had just discovered and I knew that I was completely correct.

"Don't say it out loud!" He whispered harshly, dull tawny eyes darting back and fourth between the other tables in a very Tweekesque fashion.

My initial reaction was excitement. The last time Thomas had expressed feelings for someone had been two years ago. It'd been this huge mishap with Butters that humiliated him every time I brought it up. He liked to call it his "moment of desperation". I liked to tell him that something could've happened if Kenny hadn't gotten in the way. Thomas would always beat me up afterwards.

That's when I remembered who it was that the golden blonde had a crush on.

"Do you really have to—_fuck_—make that face? You look like someone just took a shit in front of you."

_That's because you liking Craig is equivalent to someone taking a shit in front of me._

"A-Are you crazy?" I whispered just as angrily as he had. The sudden jar of my emotions sent panic signals to my brain, causing my stutter to act up. Soon I'd be twitching and then I'd have to take another pill to calm myself back down. "C-Craig is the _worst_ person anybody could ever like Thomas."

"You don't have to put it like that."

"That's the only way you're going to get it because right now I know he looks like some mysterious guy a-and he definitely is because I barely know anything about him but he's an _animal_, dude. This is _Craig_ we're talking about. I can't believe I told you all that shit about him. I'm so f-fucking _stupid_."

"Dude, calm down."

But Thomas didn't understand.

Craig wasn't just a scary guy with a beanstalk figure, pale complexion, and somber aura. Thomas didn't know the version of this guy that I did. He didn't know how much larger his hands were than ours, that he could crush us and would without hesitating. He'd do it to anybody. All Thomas was basing his infatuation on was by the eye. He saw Craig as a guy with skinny legs that wore straight legged jeans. He liked how dark Craig's hair was, how it framed his face and touched the nape of his neck, slithered just barely down his spine.

_Everyone_ liked these aspects about him because he made them look _good_. That was why nobody questioned him being best friends with Clyde Donovan, a fucking football player, and Token Black, the world's next Barack Obama. It wasn't solely based on the reason that they've been close as shit since elementary school. People were too heartless to think that it was that simple. People liked seeing Craig constantly hang out with two attractive, charismatic people because it made _him_ look more appealing because _he_ was also attractive. Thomas was getting suckered into the whims that everybody else saw!

Without realizing it, I had placed myself in a horrible situation by foolishly allowing this crush to fester. I had fallen ill to my best friend's seemingly innocent curiosity by picking up Craig's little traits and quirks, not because I was looking but because I was noticing thanks to Thomas's interest. I now understood that he didn't just think Craig always dozing off in class was "funny", or that he never did his homework but always had it done by the next day was "funny". He thought it was _cute_. He didn't think it was "cool" how Craig wrote like an old typewriter—and that one was regrettably, definitely my fault because I had purposefully asked to hand the tests back that day even though I tripped over backpacks and gave people the wrong papers—he _admired_ Craig for being a bit old-fashioned.

This was all _my_ fault for encouraging him to think he could have what he couldn't.

And there it was: People liked what they couldn't have.

Craig has never been with a girl. He's never held a girl's hand, never been caught kissing one, hasn't even been heard talking about one. There haven't been any In a Relationship statuses on Facebook, he's never posted a status at all, and it was exactly the same with boys if anyone thought he rolled that way. The entire school as well as the entire town of South Park I'm sure has always known that he was asexual. Talk about his sexuality was fairly popular seeing as I caught snippets about him all the time and, unfortunately, relayed them to Thomas. I guessed that was what made him so alluring to others.

How did Thomas even think Craig would like him even if he _did_ like guys? Thomas was too adorable. He was an indie boy with round facial features and a button nose. He wore jeans with the cuffs rolled up and liked to walk around barefoot more than anything. He was a vegetarian and wore shirts like Vegheads Are Hot with V's cut from the necks for emphasis. The music he listened to was acoustic, folk type tunes that made him happy. His hair was shaggy, a natural golden blonde for a natural kind of guy. When we went out he liked to shop and always wore this pair of bug-eye sunglasses that made me look like a meth addict, but accentuated his friendly aura on him.

Where the hell had my best friend gotten the idea that they'd go good together? Craig wasn't a shoppy kind of guy. He wore worn out jeans, faded blue jeans, and basketball shorts with wife beaters when it was surprisingly hot out. Sometimes he threw on the whole Dickies-with-the-high-socks look, and hoodies that were boring and dull as fuck. Thomas didn't want a guy like that. He didn't want someone who stole all of the pepperonis off the pizzas from last week's pizza party. He didn't want a guy who tried to run his best friend over with his car when the student parking lot was full of oncoming traffic.

Maybe his features were defined but smooth. Perhaps he had a wolfish face and pale, full lips. And maybe his eyes were striking. But not in the way that Thomas wanted them to be. They were dangerous, albeit in a beautiful way. They weren't caring or warm. They were frozen, just like the rest of him. He didn't make words lodge, forever stuck, in your throat on account of being dashingly handsome. The words choked and robbed you of breath because Craig was venomous when you looked him straight in the eye. Sure, there had been that time at Token's end-of-the-year party where—

"It was Token's fucking party!" My tone was accusative and I was half tempted to take a piece of glass and threaten him with it. Thomas's eyes rounded into orbs although I wasn't sure whether it was toward my assumption or my thoughtful glances toward the glass on our table. His blush spread like wildfire, speckling his nose with blotches of pink. "I cannot believe you!"

About three months ago Token had invited us to one of his parties. For the sake of the occasion—whoop, whoop, finally seniors—Thomas and I had agreed to go. We hadn't stayed too long for there had been bottles of alcohol littering the floor and drugs flying through the air, into peoples pockets, into peoples mouths, into one nasty looking vagina. We had stayed long enough to witness one remarkable thing, though. One unforgettable, uncharacteristic scene with Craig in it to which we had deemed the Black's house unsafe because when Craig started doing weird stuff that's when you knew things had gone too far. We'd promptly mad-dashed it out of their residence after that.

What we'd seen had been a glimpse of Craig, Clyde, and Token. Or more specifically, they're clothing.

Thomas and I had peeked through a mob of partying bodies into one room in particular that had seemed the most interesting. There had been people everywhere, most of them half naked, and decorations were falling all over the place like confetti. Music was blaring and still, somehow, the people were louder. I'm still unsure as to what my best friend saw, but I know that what I saw was Token with a video camera recording his two best friends. Clips of his parties were always the best to watch once you were sober.

All three of them had been wearing shorts. Not guy shorts, but denim shorts that looked as though they had been jeans at one point. It was as if someone had cut their legs off and washed them so that they frayed where they'd been chopped.

Estimatedly near the upper thigh.

That's all they'd been wearing. I knew it as the joke of our school. Guys wore close cropped shorts and it was funny because they looked incredibly stupid, but I'd never seen Craig wear them. The video, slurred and drunken footage, had ended up all over Token's Facebook.

Now that I was enlightened as to who was on Thomas's love roster, I wondered how many times he'd played the video back to ogle at Craig's thin legs and lean torso.

"So you s-saw Craig's legs and thought: Hey, I'd like a piece of that?" Although my voice was still vehemently quiet, my words came out ruthless.

"They were nice legs, dude!"

"I know! But that doesn't—"

"See! You even agree!"

"Don't try and flip this around on me!" I jabbed my finger at him, hoping he got the gist of my seriousness. "You can't like him like this, dude!"

"Why? Because _you_ like him?" Thomas's retort had been uncalled for.

I guffawed at his guess. "No! We beat each other up in third grade. There's no hope for us."

"So you do like him?"

"No," I groaned, covering my face with my hands. When I rubbed my eyes it felt good, soothing, but my fingers were twitching, followed by some of the muscles in my face. "You're going to get hurt. What you need to do is stop before you end up really liking him."

"I already really like him." _God, don't say that._

"You don't even _k-know_ him." The golden blonde had sounded so sincere with his confession, though. I felt bad for telling him otherwise. "This isn't going to work—"

"Yes it is. I already have a—_bitch_—plan." My insides turned into crystal slabs of ice, much like Craig's eyes. A foreboding feeling curled like wisps of smoke throughout the frozen cavity of my stomach. I wanted so badly for it to seep out of me, for Thomas to see it, but it stayed put, forcing me to harbor its depressing force by myself.

"P-Plan?"

"Yep!" Thomas's eyes got all shiny as though he held the most glorious piece of information in the folds of his brain while he spoke to me of this "genius, foolproof" idea.

He had complete faith in its capability, except it didn't have any at all. It was just a series of steps with major plot holes that could be "easily fixed with improv," and after each step the feeling in my gut churned stronger and more potent. By the end of his ridiculous spiel that I honestly just wanted to laugh at, the creeping emotion had grown like a fungus and was beating me over the head with its gnarled, beastly claws.

"Don't forget to put in a good word for me. Really drill it into him and tell him that my cussing is hot—no, tell him that my cussing is a huge turn on. Be sure to tell him exactly that."

"You want me to tell him that your Tourette's turns me on?"

"Yes—_bastard_!"

"Gah!"

"Do you have a boner?"

"Ack! N-No!"

"Well then pretend like you do!" Thomas ended his compiled summary of something that was never going to work by titling his "masterpiece" The Asexual Man Magnet 5000.

_He fucking gave this little shit a name!_

"Alright, Tweek. What do you say? Lunch with Craig today sounds awesome, right?"

"I-I don't know, man." But that was a lie because I _did_ know. I knew that this was utter bullshit and I wasn't going to do it.

"Tweek," he murmured. It sounded like he was desperate. "_Please_ help me with this."

_Damn it._

He'd put so much consideration and technicality into his plan. I mean, it was obvious he wanted this. He wanted it_ bad_. If I declined, I'd feel like a dick for making him waste his time. And he was always doing things for me, checking up on me to make sure I'd taken my medication or made my psychiatry appointments.

If I didn't agree, then what? What if he went up to Craig himself? What if Thomas got hurt rushing too forcefully into this guy's life? He wouldn't make it past Clyde who was like Craig's jealous girlfriend. I wouldn't even put it past him to kill Thomas on arrival.

What would I do without him? Without anyone I could relate to?

"...Thomas, I really—fuck. Okay, fine, I'll do it."

* * *

><p><em>Thomas is my best friend. Thomas is my best friend. Thomas is my best friend.<em>

I only had one reasonable excuse as to why I was currently on my way to the one lunch table that nobody but three designated bodies _ever_ sat at, and that was because of Thomas. _Who is my best friend._

He was my _best friend_, unfortunately one that had no balls, but neither did I. For him, though, I would imagine that I had some. I just hoped they'd get me to Craig Tucker's table and back because I hadn't had the chance to test them out yet and if they were faulty then I'd surely end up buried beneath their feet where I was positive plenty of other stupid, _stupid_ forgotten corpses lay.

_Maybe if I just turn around—_but they knew I was coming. They'd chase me down as I attempted to scamper back to Thomas, drag me to their lunch-table-that-was-actually-a-cover-up-for-their-homemade-graveyard and bury me alive. Sweet Jesus, no wonder why there were so many missing teenagers in South Park.

Oh fuck... I knew where they were all located.


	2. Step One

"I want a Double Bacon Cheeseburger, two large fries, one large drink—" Clyde ranted random shit off the menu as if _I_ were taking his order. Contrary to no popular belief, because everybody already knew, I didn't give a fuck about what he wanted for lunch today.

Shoving him forward by his shoulder, I commanded, "Tell that to _her_, fatty."

Grumbling as he stumbled, Clyde turned his head to give me some pathetic version of a glare before reciting half of the entire menu, I swear, by heart—thankfully not to me this time. I should probably be concerned about how much food he can pack into his body for breakfast, lunch, and dinner but I really couldn't bring myself to care. It was more amusing than anything to watch him scarf down a buffet for every meal.

When I thought about it, which had actually only been once when I was high, I figured that people were most likely jealous of his capability to literally inhale mass amounts of food and remain the same weight. Clyde couldn't comprehend the envious factor, though. All he saw was chub even though he's always been that way and always would be. He was in such denial about his body type that he had deemed it his "baby fat". He wasn't even a bad chubby. It was more like the Pillsbury Dough Boy chubby. Token had even agreed and said that he wore the extra pound well.

"Do you want anything, Craig?" Token asked, glancing back at me from where he had taken Clyde's place at the counter.

My eyes flickered briefly toward the menu. Every fast food joint was actually just cheating you out of your money. When you asked for a Double Decker Cheeseburger you got the deflated version of the picture you'd been drooling over. Burgers as flat as pancakes with buns that had probably fallen on the floor a few times over their lifespan didn't sound as appetizing as it had in fourth hour.

"I'll pass." Stepping out of line, my feet carried me toward Clyde who was having a field day with the ketchup dispenser. His hand was dressed with little paper cups, each filled near overflowing with tomato sauce.

"Could you help me out?" He asked.

"No."

I found us a nice, clean table near the exit and sat down in the seat that wasn't facing the sun. If Clyde had a problem with it, he could go sit somewhere else. If Token had a problem with it, I might consider switching him places.

There was a play place for the little kids to my right and I distinctly remembered shoving Clyde into the fun balls then leaving with my car before he had the chance to make it back up. Sometimes I loved him for the specific reason that I could do shit like that to him, effectively making him late to fifth period, and still get away with being his best friend.

"Why thank you _so much_, Token, for helping me with the ketchup. You are my _best friend_." The brunette spoke like a robot, over exaggerating his monotonous speech as he and Token made their way to the seats I had left open for them.

As a retort, I demanded, "Eat fast, bitch."

"Do you just want to eat at school?" Token asked, hovering an inch above his chair in case we were about to agree.

"Are you saying I called dibs on this table for nothing?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes not at Token because Token could do no wrong, but at Clyde because he was an easy target.

"Pretty much," the brunette answered nonchalantly.

"When I take you both out to a diner and show you guys what a _real_ burger is, you're sitting on the ground." That was a promise, one that the brunette knew very well. One of the last few times we'd gone to a restaurant, I had asked the staff if human pets were allowed, and if so, whether or not they'd serve them human food.

Peeved, I stood from my seat and opened the exit door for Token. When Clyde tried walking through, I let it shut on his shoulder, disrupting the placidity of his ketchup cups. He grumbled, shoving his way through the door to quickly catch up with us. As he sat his tray on the hood of Token's girlfriend—I only called her that because she was black—there was mild interest in the thought of veering her forward until the brunette's food fell off.

But I didn't want to harm her exterior. I had just gotten her cleaned. Some might cringe at my version of "clean" but for an old, beat up car she looked as slick and shiny as she could.

"Dude, you stole McDonalds property," Token pointed out when Clyde slipped into shotgun, yellow tray on his lap.

"Fuck the po'lice." I wanted to clap him on the shoulder in congrats for not being a huge pussy like he usually was, but I was sober.

Clyde reached out to switch the radio station once the car was running and I felt like a complete tool as I backed out of Mcdonalds listening to Katy Perry. Then I just felt like a douche when I turned my head to see Clyde lip singing, food jostling in his lap as he bounced his foot to the beat of her music.

Taking a quick peek through the review mirror, I saw Token swiping a hand down his face as though he were embarrassed. It didn't really work since he was smiling. The only problem was that I refused to listen to Katy Perry. Even if the song was almost over. Even if the ride back to school was just under five minutes. I turned the volume dial down to keep Clyde's new favorite genre of music from annoying the hell out of me which caused him to glare my way. I could feel it, although instead of responding to his child-like action, I moved over a lane.

"I was listening to that." He finally said, muttering rude comments beneath his breath. "You'd like her video for _Last Friday_. Corey Feldman was in. The Goonies, The Lost Boys."

I knew who Corey Feldman was, though. He didn't need to list off movies he's been in. "Katy Perry sucks. That's an insult to hear he's in it." But then I reconsidered and said a bit sourly, "Eh, all his new stuff is shit anyways."

"Fuck you, Craig. You don't know good music."

"Please don't get him started," Token sighed, but my fuse had already been lit.

"All you listen to is perverted bullshit about fucking bitches and slapping some hoes. People don't listen to that kind of music because they like it. They listen to it so that when they do drugs, the beats will pump them up." Clyde tilted his head back and groaned. "I find it pretty sad that music is a reflection of people's lives because all anybody ever listens to anymore is crap about partying, getting drunk everyday, and raping a sexy woman in a club because they're horny."

"You love partying and getting drunk!" He cried, throwing his hands in the air.

"That has nothing to do with this." Token started cracking up in the backseat. "Shut up, asshole." I smirked crookedly, flipping on my blinker before turning into our school's student parking lot. There were plenty of open slots since most of the seniors and juniors were probably trying to stay away from school for as long as possible. I chose a space near the front gate that way I could make it home on time today. Red Racer reruns were on.

"You just like that classical shit."

"Be careful what words you use to describe my choice of music," I warned the brunette. "I wouldn't call it classical, either. Class_ics_, but not classical. That's more instrumental quartets and stuff like that. I just like the oldies."

"I think you're actually sixty years old," Clyde informed, removing himself from my car. _Thank God._ I didn't think she liked him very much. That's why she liked to run him over from time to time.

"You're just jealous that by the time I actually am sixty, you're going to be fat and I'm going to be one of those cute old men that all the ladies fancy. We'll be in the same nursing home too. That way you can watch as girls fawn over me and whisper sweet nothings into my deaf ears."

Clyde laughed at that. "What about Token?"

I turned around to give my best friend a good once over even though I didn't need to. Sometimes I just liked to have an excuse to look at him because I could never get over how suave he was. I honestly just wanted to give him a big hug for looking so charming in his dark jeans and Reeboks. "Tokens black. He's always going to look good. He'll be running marathons every Wednesday around the White House, throwing money over his shoulders like a pimp. He'll visit us in our nursing home on Saturdays and slip us cocaine then roofie the girls. We'll have good times, trust me."

"So I do get ladies."

"No, just the one with the growth underneath her nose because nobody wants to fuck that. Even when they're half blind and deaf."

"I fucking hate you, Craig." But Clyde was laughing in that way that made his dimples show, and that's when you knew that you still had your best friend charm.

Token slung his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest despite the inch I had on him. "Some of the stuff you come up with is just bizarre, dude." I nodded along, agreeing wholeheartedly. My imagination tended to lean towards the weird side, but it was only with these guys that it unleashed itself. There were reasons behind why they were my best friends.

"But really, I can dig Nicki Minaj," I admitted, walking in line with the two as we made our way across the court yard to our designated spot under the tall oak tree. There was a single bench beneath its shade and it had been our territory since ninth grade. People sat around it—groups like Wendy's, Jimmy's, random fuckers we didn't even know—but nobody was ever given permission to be near it. The only exception was Kenny because no matter how hard you tried to get rid of him, he just didn't budge.

"I thought we were done with this conversation after it turned into us ending up in nursing homes," Clyde whined, waving to a few of his friends as we passed them by. Bebe blew him a kiss, one of which Token looked away from. I spat at the brunette's feet, just barely missing his foot when it lifted to take another step. "Gross, dude!"

"This conversation isn't done until I say it is. Now stop flirting with Token's future woman."

"It's alright, dude," Token tried saying, but I wasn't having any of it.

"I am the law of this trio. I just made it illegal to flirt with Bebe unless you're Token Black. Punishment for doing so is my fist up your ass while you're sleeping."

"Okay, okay. Sorry," Clyde apologized, giving a wimpy pout to Token who brushed the concern away with the flick of his hand. "What were you saying about Nicki Minaj, Craig?" He sat his tray down at our table before taking his seat in the middle. I chose his right side, and Token put himself opposite us. It was always like this.

"I like some of her songs," I stated.

"She has multiple personalities, though."

"And each one spruces up my life."

"What? I—no, no. What the hell is wrong with you, man?" The brunette grumbled just before shoving a handful of fries in his mouth. Token stared for a moment, watching the potato slivers disappear before unwrapping his burger. That poor, deflated burger.

"Come on, bro. You cant tell me that her lyrics aren't catchy. This one is for the boys with the booming system; top down, AC with the cooling system?"

"Oh, God. Here we go. You gotta sing my favorite part, man," Token laughed, encouraging me to continue. Clyde grinned over his mouthful of fries, knowing exactly what was coming.

I did this to them all the time, just randomly started singing bits and pieces of songs that I liked. Supposedly it was hilarious because I was so emotionless and monotone. They often told me that if I sent in a recording of myself to Apple or Mac, they'd use me as their next computer generated voice. I guess it was even better when I wasn't sober, because when that happened, I actually tried to sound like I gave a fuck.

"Excuse me, you're a hell of guy, you know I gotta think for American guys." I nudged Clyde repeatedly with my shoulder. "I mean—_sigh—_sickenin' eyes, I can tell that you're in touch with your feminine side—uh." The only part I had attempted at had been at "sigh" just so I could give myself an accent.

"You're such a douchey retard, Craig," Clyde laughed, dimples showing in his cheeks again. Too bad douchey wasn't a word. "Why can't you be like this all the time?"

"He just rapped to you and that's what you say to him?" Token deadpanned. "Hey, man. If you had done that to me I would've shown you some love."

"I know. Clyde just doesn't appreciate the simple things in life."

"Hey!" The brunette launched a fry at Token. When it bounced off his face and landed on the table, he picked it back up and ate it. "I would've rapped it back but you're not American," he said to me, offering a fry instead.

"Peruvian is close enough, you fatass."

Clyde scoffed. "What if I make you one of those shirts but instead of saying 'Kiss me, I'm Irish', it'll say 'Fuck me, I'm foreign'? Will that compensate for not serenading you with a song?"

"I didn't serenade you with shit. I only did that because Token wanted me to. But sure."

"Maybe you'll finally get laid."

"Maybe you should enjoy your sex life while it lasts because by the time you hit sixty your pudge'll be overflowing and women won't touch you."

"Stop saying that!"

"Aye, Tweek. What's up?" Both Clyde and I turned our heads at Token's greeting. Strangely enough, there was Tweek Tweak walking up to our table. The closer he got, the more he looked about ready to run for it. I could see on his face just how distressed he was. A few of the supporting tables outside of the boundaries of our tree were watching the frail blonde with inquisitive eyes.

I didn't blame them. This was new.

I wasn't sure of the last time I had seen the blonde. My brain kept drawing blanks, but I felt as though it hadn't been very long ago because I could easily say that he looked the same as he always did. Disarrayed blonde locks, doe-eyes, a delicate face. It seemed common that he was wearing skinny jeans and ankle boots although I wasn't sure why. He had a scarf around his neck, a green one with funny little tendrils of yarn loosely hanging. It looked familiar and again I didn't know from where. When he stopped in front of our table, he did so in a way that kept him a good foot's distance away.

"H-Hi." He seemed concerned, maybe as though he didn't understand why he was here which was understandable. "Uhm, C-Craig?" Clyde and Token raised their brows at the blonde's strange introduction to me. I just stared, uninterested. It kind of bothered me that he was so regular to my brain for no apparent reason. "You need h-help with math... right?"

And this kid knew that _because_...? "How did you know I suck at math?"

His jaw tightened, blonde brows knitting together. "We have it together right after l-lunch. Fifth hour, dude." One of his hands twitched and he quickly clasped it with the other.

Lifting my eyes back to his, I watched them quickly gaze away. My math class was trigonometry, ridiculously hard bullshit that was completely useless unless you wanted to graduate into a triangle. I slept all hour every day in that period, but it was nice to digest what I had eaten the lunch period before so it wasn't an utter waste of time.

Did Tweek really have it with me? It explained why he seemed familiar.

"It's a weighted course," I finally said. His eyes shot back to mine, understanding the quiet insult.

"Funny how I'm the one who's actually passing." Hands struck his mouth like swathes of duct tape. He looked horrified for technically insulting me back. "I-I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't—it just came out, I swear."

"Don't sweat it, man. Craig knows how to handle a couple of jabs at his intelligence," Token assured him, laughing it off.

I had two options—three if you counted Clyde chasing Tweek away like a furious dog whose bone had just been sniffed at by another hound. I could remain stoic Craig Tucker and give Blondie the finger, ultimately ruining any chance of passing my class and leaving me one credit short which meant becoming a super senior. Or I could remain stoic Craig Tucker and give Blondie the finger but agree to his what? Was he going to tutor me? That was weird.

"Okay."

Tweek dropped his hands, giving me this dead-beat stare for a few seconds before his face lit up and he definitely looked _way_ too happy to be receiving my approval. It was weird seeing him so alive but maybe that was because rumor had it that underneath our lunch table was a mass grave filled with the bodies of kids who'd tried to sit with us. Apparently Kenny was there but that bastard never dies so he got off the hook for still attending classes, no questions asked.

"Are we doing this today?" I asked.

"W-What? Today? I—er, well I have plans. N-Not _plans_ really, but its not obligatable—I mean, obligatorily. I just—" Tweek shook his head. "I'm obligated to go, man. Tomorrow, okay?" His cheeks were a dusty pink at his many different uses of the word "obligate". "Tomorrow," he repeated, turning around on the heel of his little boot to shuffle his way back to wherever the hell he'd come from.

It was only when his steps crunched in the snow did I even realize that the ground was white. "I think it's weird how I'm so used to the snow that I don't even realize when it's snowing," I mused.

"You wanna know what's weird? What just happened. Are you seriously going to not talk about how fucking strange that kid is? I think he just asked you on a date," Clyde jabbered, glancing at Token for confirmation.

He made a half-n-half face. "That was pretty... odd."

"Odd? No. That was like phycho-killer right there. I seriously think he's going to cover your face in saran wrap until you suffocate and then butt-fuck your corpse. Spazzy shits like him do that kind of stuff, man. It's not safe anymore, I'm telling you."

"That's because all people do these days is make hit singles about jacking off to people partying, while they're naked, while they're drunk off their asses." Clyde scowled at my mention of the music argument again. "If I don't come back from fifth hour, I want you to know that he already got me and that my dead corpse is finally getting laid. Bury me in that shirt you talked about getting me."

Lunch ended with Token laughing his ass off, and I passed out in my trigonometry class forgetting entirely that Tweek was even in it.


	3. Chapter 3

Tweek's point of view:

* * *

><p><em>Obligatorily? What the hell is wrong with me?<em>

Everything. Everything was wrong with me.

The obligation I'd made a vague attempt at speaking of was Dr. Norris. I didn't want anyone to know that I saw my psychiatrist during the week. I didn't want anyone to know of the extent my paranoia had gone. The only one who was allowed to understand what I was going through was Thomas, and sometimes he didn't like to keep his mouth shut. I was pretty sure Kenny knew of my "issues" but I think he had me figured out before my best friend told him.

The perverted blonde was intuitive like that. Maybe he could foresee the future for me and tell me whether or not this whole step-by-step process was worth risking my sanity over, because right now it felt like Craig was going to make my head roll.

He was already causing problems and he didn't even know he was doing it. Or maybe he did and was just being an asshole. He was good at that, being an asshole.

Thomas was just desperate, I decided as I worked my way back into the cafeteria. It was nice not feeling the eyes of every outside spectator on me anymore. Hopefully word hadn't already spread to the point that everyone in the lunch room would stare at me too. I wasn't sure if I could handle that. But I had actually talked to Craig face to face in his own territory, so maybe I could take a few more owlish stares.

One sweep of the cafeteria told me that, no, I wouldn't be able to take it. There were a lot of students eating or standing around, some still in the lunch lines. The attention of hundreds would be unbearable.

Was that table near the door gawking at me? Had someone snuck in from outside and given them a heads up. Something like: _"Tweek, yeah that weird ass blonde kid, he's going to die. Craig'll kill him for stepping too close to his table for sure." _That's what I imagined them saying. Sweet Jesus. Craig would have the perfect opportunity to pick me off in our next hour.

_God damn it, Thomas._

"How did it go?" He exclaimed when he saw me approaching our little table off to the side.

"He's going to f-fish out my liver with a compass." Compass because in our math class we had to use them from time to time.

"That's great!" Who the hell _congratulated_ a person because of that? "So how sexy was he up close and personal?" Thomas was the type of person who liked a vulgar description, one with no abandoned details. I wasn't sure how he was expecting me to do that when all Craig had done was sit there. Watching me.

I had felt like an object he'd never had interest in like a present he never asked for and threw off to the side and when it kept coming back, he got more and more annoyed at its presence.

"His eyes were v-very blue._ Nghh._" Damn it, my voice was fucking up.

Thomas frowned. "That's it?"

"He looked like he wanted to eat me, and not in a sexual way. In a I'm-a-demon-and-I'm-hungry-today kind of way." But that wasn't necessarily true because I was the "unwanted object". Perhaps I could scare the golden blonde away from him.

"That sounds hot. Keep talking—_fuck_." I frowned. Of course that wouldn't turn him off.

Numerous explanations of how "sexy" Craig had been "up close and personal" filtered through my brain. I could say he resembled a territorial bear. That he'd hunched over his table when I arrived and threw a guttural growl at me. He spat saliva, bared fangs, got up and scratched his back on the oak tree. All of these were definitions that turned _me_ off, but Thomas was consumed by his imagination and how it portrayed Craig Tucker as an ideal candidate. He'd probably think flying spit and bear calls were signs of a huge dick and that he knew how to use it.

They were all lies, too. Craig hadn't acted like an animal at all. He'd sat there and listened and watched me with his eyes that were too cold and too blue. If I recalled correctly, which was actually very correct because when I was scared or nervous my brain worked overtime to remember every detail (lucky, lucky me), he'd had such an uninterested, blasé expression that it was interesting in and of itself to look at.

Craig had such cryptic, crystalline eyes of which held such _definition_ that it was strange seeing them on a face that cared so little. It was like his eyes had absorbed all of his personality and character, leaving the rest of him, him as a _person_, bone-dry. His face held no life; his skin seemed as though it contained no heat; his movements and reactions were always so vague. And I felt bad for his lips because they were such a plush shade of pink. They were full and appeared so tender, yet they remained in a constant state of motionlessness.

But when you looked at his eyes—God, I didn't like to think about it. They made me nervous. I was scared to glance at anyone else for fear they had a stare as unique as Craig's.

He was like a wolf. If you looked him in the eye it was a threat.

"Thomas," I whispered, voice just beyond a shy hush. He leaned in with piqued curiosity, his tawny gaze like a safety blanket compared to the cruel one Craig owned. "W-What if he's a werewolf?"

My best friend barked with laughter. Sometimes he found my paranoia entertaining and sometimes that helped ease my confusion between reality and imaginary, but sometimes Thomas also needed to learn how to heed my warning. "Take your Zoloft, Tweek. Craig isn't a werewolf. He does have wolfish features though, doesn't he?" His tone turned sinister. "That's sexy."

I stopped paying attention after his voice dropped. My thoughts were more focused on the prescription in my backpack and how it was no longer working. Just before lunch I had swallowed a pill because it helped with anxiety around crowds of people, but to put it bluntly, I had taken it so I'd be calm enough to talk to Craig.

Usually the dose was strong enough to mute my paranoia for a while, and when it acted up, I'd just take more. I could literally feel my aura dampen which probably wasn't good because only psychics paid attention to auras but I wasn't a phychic and if I wasn't a phychic then I was just crazy. Or maybe my aura was just broken.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I already took some. I guess it's not very e-effective anymore."

"Dr. Norris warned you about that so don't take it too—_shit_—hard. He said you'll probably go through a lot of different medications before you find the right one." I knew that. It was just scary to think of all the reasons why I was a paranoid mess now.

Zoloft was for depression induced paranoia. Dr. Norris had thought, or rather _guessed_, that my obviously (now, at least) nonexistent depression was the cause for my "overactive imagination" which was a friendly way of saying: crazy, paranoid, hallucinative, reality-impaired, fucking weirdo. What were the causes now? Some unknown traumatic event that happened in my life? A mental disorder? Was my brain coming apart?

I could deal with depression. That was treatable. What the fuck was going to fix my brain if it was falling apart, though?

_Nothing._

I would die and I would never get to run the coffeehouse. Or lose my virginity because I was a stupid little gay boy and wanted to lose things like that.

"It's a good thing you go in for a session today. That way you can tell him, ya know? So stop worrying about it. Alright, Tweek?" I nodded my head vigorously, but all I could think about was whether or not I could last the last two classes of the day without Thomas, especially when in one of them I had Craig. "Yeah, it's cool, completely ignore me."

"S-Sorry," I mumbled.

Thomas frowned, placing his fork back into his salad. There had been a baby tomato on its prongs. He'd stopped eating because of me; this was serious.

"If you want to ditch fifth and sixth hour, it's fine. We can stop by Harbucks and get some coffee since we'll get caught if we go into Tweek Bros. They watch us like hawks in there." He winked at the mention of my family business, but to be honest I was more afraid of Harbucks. I felt like they had traps specially made for their competition's son set up around their store like rat lures.

Not once have I stepped foot under their roof. And maybe I stayed a good two foot distance away from their door whenever I walked by. I also avoided dark corners just as a precaution.

Yeah, the Zoloft definitely wasn't working.

"I have a quiz in my next hour. _Nghh._ How about sixth? N-No Harbucks, though. Let's just jack some coffee from the teacher's lounge."

Thomas smiled before passing his salad toward me. "I'll stop talking about Craig, too. I can tell it makes you uncomfortable." That was quite an understatement. "But before I do that, just one more thing." He dug around in his backpack before pulling out a trimmed piece of paper.

"Is that the list?" I questioned, feeling as though my voice had taken on the roll of the guy in the movies who asked, _"Is it time to use the ultimate weapon?_"

"Yep!" He slapped it on top of the table, his other hand appearing with a pencil. "Looks like we can cross off _Befriend Craig_" —he did as he spoke— "and circle step number _two__._ This is so cool, Tweek. I don't know why you're not excited about this."

I could tell him _exactly_ why I wasn't excited about this. _Because asking to tutor him is _not_ equivalent to "becoming" his friend! _Thomas was going through this too fast, much too fast. I wouldn't be able to keep up and certainly not with what step two entailed. That was the one that scared me the most.

It wasn't like I could tell him that, though. He just wouldn't understand. "Craig's n-not friendly. _At all_, dude."

"I bet he's a huge teddy bear on the inside. You're just freaking out. _As usual_, dude." That was mockery and I didn't like it when people mocked me. "Don't get angry at me. You know I'm right. Craig is a _person_, so stop treating him like a creature because he's not a werewolf."

Like hell I was going to let my assumptions go that easily. "C-Can we stop talking about him now?"

"Just one more thing." I pinpointed a twitchy glare at him. "He looks so nice today and I just want to run my hands all over his body and I think that if I see him one more time I'm going to jump him." After that I couldn't help but roll my eyes, thankful for the fact that some of the things Thomas said knew just how to wipe away my negativity.

* * *

><p>"You've been more quiet than usual, Tweek." Fifteen minutes had gone by and I was still silent in Dr. Norris's office. "Would you agree with that?" I nodded my head, still trying to accumulate a response to his question regarding how my week had been, the one he always asked as an opener, an ice breaker. Sometimes he didn't even have to ask because on rare occasions I liked to blurt it out on my own. Those were the times when I was progressing, but by the next week I always took a step back.<p>

Dr. Norris said it was because I was scared. I was so used to this lifestyle, the one where I twitched and spasmed and freaked out over the simplest problems that occurred in daily life—in _everyone's_ daily lives—that my fears kept me from moving forward because they weren't sure what life would be like as a "normal" teenager. When he'd told me that, I remembered feeling as though I'd undergone an intense case of awareness—that now that I had been told of my major road block, I would be able to overcome it. Unfortunately, issues aren't meant to be resolved so easily.

Thinking about it now, those words were just another piece of information that was useless to me, like a word repeated over and over again until it was no longer meaningful. _"__You're subconscious is just scared."_ Yeah, well I was scared of everything so thanks for adding onto that.

"S-Some stuff has h-happened." I hated it when my voice cracked and trembled.

"Let's talk about 'stuff' then. How does that sound?"

Talking about "stuff" sounded horrible actually. Maybe some advice from an adult who knew what was up was a good idea, though. Dr. Norris knew all about Thomas anyways. We'd gone over him plenty of times when my counseling first started and he was usually mentioned at least once, if not more, every time I came in.

So I told Dr. Norris everything, starting from the very beginning: the fight in third grade. Not that it had much of an impact on my life. My main worry was that Craig was fully capable of inflicting harm. My second worry was how much bigger he was than Thomas and I.

My psychiatrist was the only person over the age of twenty-one who knew of my and Thomas's sexualities. Due to that secret piece of information, I didn't hold back with expressing my concerns toward Thomas wanting a _relationship_ with Craig.

From time to time I noticed the advantages of having Dr. Norris at my disposal. Who would I be telling this to if I didn't have him? He was skilled in these types of situations, in all types of situations, and maybe it wasn't advice that I was looking for, but reassurance. I needed to hear that Thomas was going to be okay, that this wasn't going to hurt him, but if it did end up having a negative impact, that it was one he would learn from.

That's what my doctor told me. That everyone had to start somewhere and sometimes people didn't get a pleasant beginning. He said that Thomas sounded strong-willed and wouldn't let Craig throw him overboard. I wasn't too sure what that meant, because I surely didn't want my best friend to end up drowning, but Dr. Norris was confident in what he was telling me, so I tried to accept his speech.

He also made me promise that I wouldn't jump to conclusions about Craig, to be careful in suspecting he was a bad person when I had no proof. More than that, he warned me to make sure I didn't get so caught up in Thomas's life that it hindered my supposedly growing progress.

I didn't ask, but I was wondering how I was supposed to do that when I was the key part in Thomas's plan.

And I didn't want to talk about it anymore. "I think the Zoloft quit working."

"You sound upset."

"I am. I-I don't want my brain to be messed up!" Dr. Norris knew that this was one of my worries. He smiled at my persistence. My malfunctioning brain was always brought up during the topic of medication.

"I can assure you, Tweek, that your brain is fully functional." The doctor reached around the side of his computer to fetch a slim sheet of paper, one that I was familiar with. It was a new prescription. "I can't give this to you until your parents have affirmed the treatment, but this is a prescription for Haloperidol."

"W-What's that?" It's name was more difficult than Zoloft. That meant it was stronger.

My eyes flickered between Dr. Norris's sturdy desk to the tweed carpeting that I had an uncontrollable connection with because our names were similar. Tweed and Tweek. It was an unsymmetrical design that littered the floor, and I liked that about it. It made me feel like we had something in common.

"Haloperidol is an antipsychotic." That was what I'd been looking for. Psychotic. "This will treat conditions like yours where there is atypical excitement in the brain. It will differentiate things and ideas that are either real or imaginary. Your motor and verbal tics will be more accessible to control. This is good because we don't want a medication that will put a stop to your issues, but give you the ability to stop them yourself. One day you'll be able to do so without medicinal treatment. That is our goal."

"W—..." I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what Haloperidol treated. What if it was Schizophrenia?

"Go ahead and ask." He knew what was bothering me, just like how Kenny knew everything thanks to his natural observation skills. "This isn't anything we haven't gone over before. You agreed to be evaluated on this specific illness and you harbor the symptoms." I unconsciously released a deep sigh. I had never taken an evaluation on brain damage.

Unless evaluations were like the Terms and Conditions you automatically said yes to and never actually read. Had I unknowingly agreed to take a brain evaluation? What if my parents had given Dr. Norris the go-ahead long before I even knew I had symptoms for anything?

"Is it a d-disorder? _Nghh._" I didn't want one of those.

"Yes."

_Sweet Jesus._ "J-Just t-tell me." It felt like my entire body was a spasmodic mess. I covered my face with my hands and leaned backwards into the leather couch. The fabric squeaked against the shrinking movement.

"Paranoid Personality Disorder," he said.

How ironic. That sounded like me in a nutshell.

"And I-I have symptoms f-for that?" There was no amount of balls that could appear on my body that would ever give me the courage to say my potential disorder out loud.

"Some of the more common symptoms it requires, yes." I nodded my head, afraid of what my voice might do if I tried that instead. "There is good news if this is indeed what you have, though." What reason was there to perk up? I had a personality disorder. A paranoid one. "It excludes Schizophrenia."

Spoke too soon. "_I'm not Schizophrenic?_"

Dr. Norris laughed. "Not if you have Paranoid Personality Disorder."

My hands dropped and I asked, "Are you g-going to diagnose me with it?" But what I really wanted to ask was, "Can you just give me some of that _right now_ because I sound like an idiot and can't stop twitching?"

"I'd like to talk with your parents and then we'll see."

But by the end of the night I had a dose of Haloperidol on order and Paranoid Personality Disorder on my record. When I called Thomas and told him the verdict, he couldn't stop laughing because he'd looked up what the symptoms were and I had all of them. Which was an exaggeration because Dr. Norris had just said some of the more common symptoms. Either way, my best friend had read them out to me and I honestly couldn't disagree with him.

"Dude, dude, listen to this one," he'd started. "'Suspects without sufficient basis, that others are exploiting, harming, or deceiving him or her'. 'Is preoccupied with unjustified doubts about the loyalty or trustworthiness of friends or associates'. Oh! 'Is reluctant to confide in others because of unwarranted fear that the information will be used maliciously against him or her'—that one's totally you!"

Part of me felt insulted, another part relieved. Thomas continued, oblivious to my fluctuating feelings. "Oh god, this ones perfect: 'Perceives attacks on his or her character or reputation that are not apparent to others and is quick to react angrily or to counterattack' and 'Has recurrent suspicions, without justification, regarding fidelity of spouse or sexual partner'—_definitely_ you just without the spouse or sexual partner bit." _Ha ha._ "Tweek, I think we found what's wrong with you!"

In short, that night I slept soundly for the first time in a long while.

* * *

><p>Paranoid Personality Disorder symptoms courtesy of psychcentraldotcom.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

I was sitting on my porch, ass cold, with slivers of smoke from my cigarette snaking through the air, watching as they dwindled away. It was one of those days where it was snowing out of turn in _August_ for the love of God. Trying not to breathe so as not to disturb the white tendrils, muted gray ashes fell, staining the fresh snow. It was chilly enough that my breath shown and I didn't like it when it mixed with my smoke. Little white flakes of snow were traipsing around everywhere like a drizzling of rain. I was waiting for one to land on my cigarette and put it out. That would've been perfect.

Actually, I was waiting for Tweek. He'd said we'd do this tutor thing tomorrow yesterday, but never specified a time or place. I had forgotten we had a class together again and left before getting any actual details. In the back of my mind, I wondered idly if he had come to our table at lunch again to see that we weren't there. It was kind of hard to leave Panda Express once you were in the building; we had stayed the entire lunch hour.

Clyde had gotten angry when I ripped open my fortune before eating the cookie, then told me that it wasn't going to come true. _Well, thank God,_ I'd thought. "Behind an able man, there are always other able men" wasn't necessarily what I wanted to hear. Sounded like a gay orgy to me.

The brunette had then preceded to show me how a real fortune should be undergone. He had been so excited to read his stupid slip of paper that he'd swallowed the whole damn cookie in one bite and would've read it to us, except after reading it himself first, he hadn't wanted to. I'd had to steal it from him before laughing in his face over his stupidity. "You are surrounded by fortune hunters" it had foretold. Just to fuck with him I'd said, "I might have to take this and put it in my fortune collection."

Token's had nailed it, though. It was nine words that had essentially been the epitome of who he was. "You display the wonderful traits of charm and courtesy." Now _that_ had been real fortune telling.

The sound of boots padding down the sidewalk, crunching in the snow, diverted me from previous memories. My eyes lifted from the half dead cigarette resting between my fingers. Tweek was glancing nervously between my house, me, and his boots. "You know where I live."

He stopped at the driveway as if that was as far as he could go, except it wasn't like I had a force field dome around my yard or anything. "I have Token in my first hour. He gave me your address. I'm not some creepy stalker or something. I barely even know where my own house is."

I chose to ignore his ranting and focused on the first thing, the only important thing, that had come out of his mouth. "Token's in all AP classes." My legs stretched out as I stood and snow fell into a pile at my feet where it had collected on my lap. Tweek furrowed his brows like he had the other day. He took a tentative step forward.

"I know," he mumbled.

"Really?" I asked, disinterested. I just wanted him to hurry the hell up. Now that I was standing, my warmth wasn't huddled and the cold was spreading fast. The fact that my legs were bare from the knee down, damn cut offs, didn't help in the slightest.

"We have four classes together."

"Oh yeah?"

He nodded his head, following me up the steps with this cautious look in his eyes. He was acting as if my porch was going to grow a mouth and eat him. "That tends to happen when two people take weighted courses. You get put in the same class."

"Did your smart ass classes give you that smart ass mouth, too?" He stopped suddenly, just outside the front door. I wanted to rip his face off because the inside of my house was _right there_. The door was open and its heated contours were teasing me, but this kid was such a fucking wimp.

"I'm sorr—"

"Don't worry about it. Just get inside. I'm freezing my balls off out here." To show him I meant business, I grabbed his jacket protected shoulder and shoved him through the opening. He squealed, tripping over his own feet.

"You didn't have to _push_ me, man."

"What was that?" I lied, treading my way down the entrance hall with the expectation that he'd follow. He did. Very quietly, very hesitantly, just like a mouse.

"Nothing." _That's what I thought._

When he took forever and a day to peer around the hall, into the kitchen, and through the living room, I finally stopped to wait for him.

He seemed genuinely interested in my house as he stared awe-eyed at the kitchen table set for four places, the stainless steel fridge with the reminder board pinned to it where the only actual reminder was one from Ruby telling us that she was disgusted by me, the row of pictures hanging above the television, one of which was my favorite because it was Token looking like a charming young man, offset by the two retards next to him: me piggybacking on Clyde.

My family owned a regular couch, with a regular coffee table. We had carpet, and an organized rack of movies, and the walls were painted beige. I didn't understand why Tweek had to be so amazed by our living conditions, unless maybe he lived in a barn.

It had to be the coffee table. He was probably drooling over the thought of how many cups of coffee have ever been placed upon its pristine surface. Which was none. The Tuckers hated coffee.

"Upstairs there's two bedrooms and even a bathroom. They're all painted the same color and the bedsheets you can find at JC Pennys." I made my eyes go wide and wiggled my fingers in front of his face. Tweek didn't look happy that I was making fun of him; his cheeks pigmented.

"I'm just surprised there's no demon lurking around. I wasn't expecting this." The sad thing was that he sounded one hundred percent honest, as though he really believed that I roomed with a paranormal entity.

"Don't worry, you still haven't seen my room." The fear that bubbled over his eyes and took a toll on his face would've looked awesome had he really been inside the gateway to hell, but he wasn't. He was in a ghost free zone, as far as I knew, and there were no legitimate hauntings around the neighborhood. The only beast he had to look out for was Ruby but she was with her lame, little buddy down the street.

I knew that because I'd been the one to take her there.

Turning around to head to my room, I only got so far before I noticed that Tweek still wasn't following. "That was sarcasm," I told him, referring to my sarcastic hint that there was literally a demon in my bedroom.

"C-Could we just work out here?" He shifted his weight, eyes never leaving the floor.

"Are you serious?" When he didn't answer, just continued fidgeting, I started walking up the stairs. "I'll be down in a second." God damn, that kid was such a fucking pussy. At least it gave Clyde some competition.

As I entered my room, I didn't bother double checking for malevolent spirits_—because there were none_—only grabbed my stuff and left.

Downstairs Tweek was sifting through his backpack on the couch. I landed on the third step wrong, issuing a creak that caused the blonde to scream. What the hell had this kid's parents done to him as a child?

"Calm your tits. It's just me. Let's hurry up and get this over with, alright?"

* * *

><p>Two hours later I was face-planted into the coffee table trying to drone out the blonde's voice. He was talking too much about triangles, had been since we started. After a while I'd become interested in how I was sitting crisscross across from him, and that was literally how interesting things had gotten. Although in my case, looking at the way I sat was actually quite interesting.<p>

After about half an hour of that, it finally reached a stage that was no longer satisfying. That's when I'd decided to nap against the table's furnished edge.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes." Except I wasn't. I'd just noticed the change of tone in his voice and figured it was time to pretend like I cared.

"Are you ready to try number three?" He sounded skeptical and had every right to be just so.

"No."

"No, I wasn't listening? Or no, number three is too hard for me?"

_Sneaky, little shit._ I knew how to play dirty too. "If it's too hard for you then you can get the fuck out."

"I'll take that as two no's then."

_Touche._ "Alright, you've got my attention. Can you go over everything you just said again?" The blonde dropped his head back, throwing both of his skinny arms across his face. I figured it was more to emphasize his point rather than muffle his groan.

_That's right. You're going to repeat all that bullshit for talking back to me._

"I just went over w-what a sine, tangent, and secant are. You s-said you didn't know what they were." On the outside I kept up my pokerface, but inside I was feeling a tad bit concerned. I had no recollection of speaking to him, especially about declining my knowledge of trigonometric terms. I definitely knew what a sine, tangent, and secant were. Opposite over hypotenuse and all that random shit.

"Yeah, no idea what any of that stuff is." If he spent another thirty minutes talking about the same crap then I will have technically taken an hour long power nap. Then I'd really be able to get down to business. Which probably meant accomplishing problem three and calling it quits.

Tweek removed his arms, giving me a look that appeared slightly angered but that was a step above his I'm-about-to-piss-myself, pussy face so I was okay with that. He reached into his backpack to retrieve a thermos that I was positive had coffee in it. I had the utmost faith in that answer, as well.

After taking a sip, effectively releasing the scent of caffeinated beans or whatever the hell coffee was made out of, he set it down to which I congratulated him. "That's the first cup of coffee that's ever been on this table."

"Don't try to change the subject." There was a growl to his voice, but instead of interpreting it as threatening, I just imagined the big, scary doghouse that everyone was irrationally afraid of since all that was inside was actually just a puny chihuahua. "Make sure you _listen _this time, a-alright?" He seemed to be waiting for an answer but I just stared at him until he started talking.

I sat there for a minute, waiting for his voice to morph into that hypnotizing tone that always occurred when someone was lecturing you, before nodding off in a way that was completely obvious.

The kid never woke me up, though. Maybe he was more oblivious than I thought or maybe he was too scared. If he knew me, he'd know that I was a light sleeper, that I didn't care whether I was woken up or not. I also had an internal alarm clock that told me when my dad was about to come home from work. Whenever it went off, I knew that it was time to abandon the house.

"Blondie," I mumbled, sluggishly lifting my cheek from the table. It stuck as I pulled away and there was definitely going to be a red mark. I came to by blinking away the fog from my eyes, fucking contacts and their resilience to remoisten with my eye juices.

In front of me, Tweek sat with his head turned against the duvet of a couch pillow. My own tutor had passed out on me. "It's time to wake up, dude." With one hand I patted his cheek and the opposite checked my phone. The time read ten until five. That left just enough time for a clean get-away.

"W-What's wrong?" The blonde sprang into an upright position, looking around blindly for a second before his eyes settled on my legs. "Why is one of your legs shaved?" When he cocked his head up, he owned a genuinely confused expression.

"Don't ask questions. Just come on." When I started for the door, he tried to pick up his things as hastily as possible. "Your shit'll still be here when we come back." My words didn't urge him to falter and when he finally had his belongings gathered, he remained seated on the floor.

"Where are we going?" His gaze was wary.

"Nowhere if you don't get up off your ass." I continued out of the living room and into the entrance hall where I warned him, "Alright, it's cool, stay here by yourself with the demon in my room." The blonde came scampering down the hallway with his face coated in displeased embarrassment.

"Where are we going?" He repeated.

"To the gas station." I opened the door and forced myself into the cold much like before in nothing but a shirt and cut-offs.

"Should I lock the door?"

"No." Bitch locked it anyways.

When I gave him a look, he dropped his eyes to the white stained ground and kept them there.

Pulling my keys from my pocket, I received my car's jingling beep as I unlocked her doors. My first priority upon entering was the heater, but that got disrupted because the second I turned her on the stereo's sound waves practically caused my brain to implode. _Fuck you, Clyde, fuck you. _My finger zipped toward the off button and once it was off, I noticed Tweek with his fingers in his ears and his eyes scrunched shut.

As fast as I had muted the music, I had all the air vents directed toward shut-eye Tweek. Anything was better than them facing me. The blonde just so happened to be there, but Clyde usually got the first blasts of cold air every day, so Tweek should consider himself lucky that this was just a one-time thing. That's what you got for taking shotgun.

I cranked the air escalation dial to its max, watching with pure amusement when Tweek's eyes flew open, face draining of color. He screamed a sound that was a fair match for the music we'd previously heard, although this time I thoroughly enjoyed the noise. It was the cry of terror that belonged to a person who'd just gotten the brunt of frozen air.

"You f-fucking _dick_!" He turned on me with lips the color of pink frosted over. Or maybe they always looked like that. I hadn't noticed. "Y-You're an asshole! You're a h-huge asshole! I can't believe you j-just d-did that! Fuck!"

My shoulder caught the force of his barreling fist as though the action would rewrite the past and take the bitter cold away. But the blonde's face had been priceless, and I was keeping it forever. That one frostbitten look had been better than Clyde's ever were.

"I think you punched harder in third grade," I told him, backing out of the driveway.

"Argh! G-God, I fucking _hate_ you!" I considered the level of emotion he'd put into that word as a compliment. "I s-swear to God, if I get frostbite on my goddamn _lips_ I am g-going to—fuck, I c-can't do anything! The cops'll f-find me h-hiding in a warehouse—no, a _meth lab_ a-and then I'll get put in _jail_ for _life_! Sweet Jesus, I'm going to end up a drug addict."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure that Kenny's already been there, done that. You won't be alone."

"I don't want to h-hear y-your stupid op-pinion. Shit." Tweek fished through his backpack, hands coming out with his thermos and a small prescribed bottle of pills. I should've felt bad for making the kid cause such a raucous that he had to medicate himself.

Too bad the sorrow never came.

The only thing I cared about was that I had napped and now I was hungry. The gas station wasn't a worthy match for my stomach, so while Tweek popped his pills, I passed the Quick Trip and headed down the street toward whatever was going to end up being the first fast food place I could find. In my head I imagined it to be Jack in the Box, and that would've been fantastic, except the verdict ended up being Burger King.

_Damn._

"Do you know what you want?" I asked, turning into the drive-through.

Tweek glanced up to see where we were before his eyes inevitably found his hands again. A few of his fingers were twitching. He looked like he was watching, waiting for them to stop. "I don't have any money," he muttered.

"Let's just say that you owe me."

He looked up and across at me. "I'm tutoring you. _You_ owe _me_."

"Really?" I asked, braking my car beside the talk-box. A worker voiced their presence; my window rolled down. "Yeah, hold on," I told them before turning back to the blonde. "I hadn't noticed since I haven't learned anything all day." The blonde dropped his head to the side, giving me an blank stare to show that he didn't find me funny. "I'll have a number five with a Pepsi."

Tweek spoke, voice growing infuriated. "Then when you finally decide to listen and not sleep and actually learn something, _that_ will be my payback to you. So until then I'll have a—" He craned his neck to see the menu.

I wasn't an idiot. I knew exactly what he was getting at from much experience thanks to Clyde. In my back pocket I had two fives tops—ten dollars was _not_ going to get Tweek the whole menu. "Don't even think about it."

He gave a faint smile. "Just get me—"

"What else would you like, sir?" The voice coming through the box inquired.

"How about a fucking minute?" I tried, adding nosy employees to my list of reasons why Burger King sucked. My answer must've turned the blonde's attitude around because when he told me he wanted a small order of fries, his voice was soft like he'd forgiven me for being an asshole.

Had that medication kicked in already or was this kid a retard?

You never forgave an asshole, especially when it was _me_. I always knocked you around harder the second time.

When I pulled up to the second window since the first was always a storage unit these days, a familiar face was waiting with my order that I suddenly didn't find an interest in anymore.

I figured that our expressions would've been similar had I been showing mine through my blank facade. If anything, I was sure we shared a mutual lack of excitement upon seeing each other on the inside. This guy was now my main focal point as to why Burger King would forever be knocked off my food registry.

I would've driven away, but Tweek had already started a conversation and, as far as I knew, he still wanted his fries.

"I'm sorry but this is really weird, dude," Stan Marsh laughed. I didn't get what was so funny and, frankly, I just wanted to know why I hadn't recognized his voice over the speaker.

"I'm tutoring him," Tweek explained with a smile that was bittersweet.

"Seriously?" Marsh glanced between the two of us before waving to someone behind him. "Hey, come see this!"

_Sweet mother of God._ I was in a car with some blonde kid, not in a display case for all of his gay friends to ogle at. Gay friends meaning Kyle Broflovski who popped up next to his stupid best friend. His hair was pulled back in a pony tail. I laughed at how stupid he looked.

"Since when are you guys friends?" He didn't seem to understand that he was the reason behind my humor so I laughed harder. When he finally spared me a glance, he ripped the tie from his hair and threw it at Stan. "I told you I didn't want to wear that stupid thing." Loose curls unfurled around his pale, freckled face. I thought to myself that if he wasn't such a fucker I'd probably think decently of him.

"I thought it looked nice..." Stan muttered, offhandedly.

"Man, you guys are funnier than usual," I commented, hiking my thumb toward Tweek, who looked vaguely unhappy once again. "We're not friends. Business acquaintances at best."

Stan rolled his eyes, "Tweek's his tutor."

Kyle raised a slim, ginger brow. "Really?"

"That's what I said." The two shared a smile as if their twin responses had been the cutest thing in the world. It wasn't.

"You can keep the burger and the drink. Just give me the fries," I said, pulling a five from my pocket before tossing it through the window. Stan looked from the money fluttering to the ground then back to me.

"What?"

"I just want the fucking fries." Because I had a feeling that these guys spat in my food.

"I'm so sorry that you have to spend your day with this asshole," Kyle stated very clearly through the window. _Yeah, they definitely spit in my food. _"Let me go get your fries, you ass."

"They're for Tweek so make sure your mouth doesn't go anywhere near them," I called, equally blunt. "Or your ass."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The blonde asked, glancing wildly between Stan and me. "I don't want anyone's anything near my fries, man!"

I explained to him that "Sometimes when assholes order food, employees like to spit in it."

"We don't—" Stan started. "Alright, yeah, sometimes that happens."

"Sweet Jesus! I-I'm not an asshole." _Sometimes you talk like one, though._ And that was just as bad.

"Here you go, Tweek." Kyle reached around Stan to hand over the fries. I grabbed them, making sure not to touch the firecrotch's fingers, and offered them to the blonde. "They're fresh and not vandalized."

"He's a ginger, don't trust him," I warned, but the blonde seemed fed up with my insults toward his friends and snatched the fries from me. There was a hint of worry in eyes, though, as he gave the potato wedges a once over, then a twice over. I was hoping for a thrice over, but the chances of that were too slim.

Oh—never mind, just happened. Who called that? _I did._

"Hey, Tweek. Good luck with this guy, alright?"

"Fuck you." I threw my finger up at Marsh for his pansy ass encouragement before getting the hell out of there. Their unresolved sexual tension pretty much just made me want to puke up a kidney. Some of the tension probably found its way into the food they served causing relationship problems all throughout South Park and Tweek was now a victim of that. Sucker.

When we were passing QT on our way back, the blonde spoke up unceremoniously. "I'm sorry for falling asleep earlier."

His apology was irrelevant. "It's alright. I did it first."

"Fry?" He asked, holding the shapely paper cup out to me like it was a peace offering.

"Only if you feed me," I wagered, opening my mouth, turning my head but not my eyes. From my peripheral I caught the uplifting twitch of the blonde's lips.

That's right. I knew how to be charming.


	5. Chapter 5

The lyrics in the beginning are from Lady Gaga's song, _Highway Unicorn_.

NOTE: I actually think the diner's name is Ronny's, from the South Park episode You're Getting Old, but I like Roxxy's much better. This will make sense later on in the chapter :P

* * *

><p>"'Run run with her top down baby she flies,'" I monotonously sang.<p>

"Craig, can you listen to me for one second?" Clyde whimpered.

"'Run run with the fury a saint in her eyes.'"

"Craig."

"With blonde hair and a gun smokin' under her toes.'"

"_Craig—_"

I reached over and smashed his face against the passenger side window. He struggled for a moment, but when I didn't let up even while rounding a corner he made a smart move and went limp.

"What do you want?" I asked once I knew I had him detained.

He answered as I removed my abrasive hand. "Can you just tell us why you're still alive?" He'd been surprised when I picked him up this morning. Especially after I ignored him and Token all weekend to keep up the appearance of being dead. Stripe and I'd had a good Saturday and Sunday, though. So the alone time had been well worth it.

"Maybe because I killed him instead."

"You're too boring to think of a way to kill someone."

"Not if I just sat on his face. Then I could be boring _and_ homicidal."

"Looks like you didn't sit long enough, dude," Token chided from the back seat. From the rear view mirror he pointed out his window. I took a glance to my left where, on the snow capped sidewalk, strolled two slender figures. One was obviously Tweek, a coffee in hand, the other Thomas, who I only remembered because of the slight infatuation I'd had on him throughout elementary school.

"Damn, looks like I'll have to run him over now."

"I've got an even better idea," Kenny chirped, crawling over Token's lap to reach the window. "Get their attention."

My palm rapped the horn for the duration of two short beeps, effectively calling the two blondes to attention as well as a few others on their way to school. In unison, heads turned and I had to look through the rear view mirror to catch Kenny's act.

In one smooth motion he tugged his jeans—boxers included—down to reveal his ass, flashing any people on the unfortunate—or fortunate depending on how you perceived the pervert—side of the road.

"Not in my lap, dude!" Token cried.

Tweek had a hand over his eyes but it looked like he was laughing just as his counterpart hooted and raised his jacket up to his neck, shaking his revealed chest at the nude ass staring him down. The shyer of the two pulled Thomas's top back in place, harshly tugging him through the school gates.

If my window had been rolled down I would've called out "Prude!" even though I was sure he wouldn't have been able to hear it on account of two key reasons: Distance, and the fact that half of the people who had seen Kenny's ass were being good sports like Thomas, calling out to Kenny while making obscene gestures.

"Aw, come on, Token. You know you liked it," the blonde jeered, returning his cheeks to his pants.

"Hell no. Not your white ass."

"Was that a racial insult or are you just being cute?"

"Token's always cute," I intervened. "But I swear to God if your bare ass touched my car, I will personally shove Clyde's fist up your ass."

"Why mine, dude?" Clyde cried like a pansy ass.

"Oh God, please do." Kenny threw his body into the space between the brunette and I, tossing his arms out on either side of himself. His move basically made turning into the school's parking lot a lot harder than it should've been. Thank God for Experienced Driver Craig and his uncanny ability to avoid car collisions. In other words, Kenny throwing his body around in my car wasn't the worst I've been through. Like the time he'd been drunk and had decided to bring a wild bird in for the ride. "My body is ready, Craig."

Token laughed, clonking me on the shoulder. "Take the offer, dude. Kenny's the only person who's willing to look past how apathetic you are."

"That's not cool, man. I thought we were bros." I would've mustered up the strength to perform a pout, possibly even a tear because when I thought about it, driving to school was just too exciting for my pleasantly boring persona sometimes. And then I spotted someone of interest crossing the parking lot. "Kenny, there's Stoley. Moon him."

"Will I get a kiss for doing your dirty work?" He was already crawling into Clyde's lap with a hand on his pants, though.

"Sure. Whatever. Just make sure to give him the butthole."

"My specialty," the blonde purred.

"Kenny, stop it," Clyde whined, trying to push the blonde from his lap. "Not to Kevin." The blonde wouldn't budge and that's because when you got an order from Craig Tucker, you did it. Not really, but if you promised some action, Kenny would do whatever the hell you wanted him to. "You like Kevin! You guys planned to be stormtroopers for Halloween!"

"Yeah, well I like Tweek and Thomas too—_re__ally_ like Tweek and Thomas." He winked at the brunette before slacking his jeans. "Besides, Kevin's a fucking dweeb." Groaning, Clyde rolled down the window in sync to my obnoxious honking.

As Stoley turned his head, Clyde called out, "I'm sorry!"

I couldn't stop laughing and honestly wished that I was Kevin for five seconds, and only five because if I took six then I'd be at the point of no return what with all the _Battlestar Galactica_—or whatever gay shit he had a boner for, floating around in his head like porn did in Kenny's—because the image of Clyde apologizing next to the blonde's unclothed ass was just too fucking hilarious.

"That face!" Token wheezed from the back seat. "He looks so scared!" My best friend's laugh caused me to laugh harder and I had to stop my car for a second, unable to handle it because I couldn't breathe. He had one of those laughs that was continuously repetitious. Just one short note over and over and over again that got funnier the more you listened to it and so my inability to cope with my surroundings whenever Token got really into it was an often occurrence. It just never got old.

"God, I hate that guy." I was pretty much awesome for being able to sober up quickly, too. On those rinky dink interview papers that the teachers handed out during the first week of school, I usually put _ability to stop laughing on command_ in the hobbies or talents or other comments section. Walking Stripe was a common answer as well.

While Kenny worked his pants back on, Token quieted down and Clyde got over his unhappy tantrum. I found a parking space between two open slots and tucked my car into it. We gathered our bags before filing out, hitting the crisp winter air instantly. I figured that the cold wasn't as alarming to Kenny since his body had been tempered when he'd stuck his ass out the window. Token and Clyde met up, separating from me and the blonde.

"Good luck," Token offered, nodding his head toward Kenny. "I believe in you."

"Miss me while I'm gone?"

"Always."

Clyde frowned. "Why don't you ever say cute stuff like that to me?"

"Miss me while I'm gone?" I said to him with equal remote interest and the included visual of my middle finger.

"Fuck you, Craig."

Before they even had their backs turned, Kenny had slithered up against my side. I could smell his cologne and the sour hint of weed which was basically the blonde in a nutshell. He moved slow, turning into me, causing my legs to lean against the hood of my car. He turned his head up, lips brushing the underside of my jaw.

"I can't wait until you finally get a boner." It was an odd thing to say at a time like this. Or maybe it wasn't. I mean, this was Kenny. How could I expect anything less?

"Won't be my first."

"I meant for a person," he chuckled, breath warm against my chilled, exposed neck. _Thanks for making it sound like I jack off to Hershey bars and manila envelopes._ "You're such a silly boy." I folded my hands into the pockets of my jeans, allowing Kenny's hands to do enough for the both of ours.

He wasn't a soft-touch kind of guy. He didn't trace lines up chests or leave feather light designs on skin. Kenny liked to feel shirts ripple beneath his palm as he dragged his hands up torsos. He laid right into bodies because he knew what he liked and he got what he wanted out of everyone he met. That's why I played a rag doll when Kenny was involved. He didn't mind if I didn't reciprocate. Just as long as my mouth moved, he'd do all the work.

I could feel him grab the back of my neck beneath my hair with one hand, fingers squeezing like I was a kitten and that was my scruff. Declining my head, because even for him I seemed to be too tall, my breath fanned out across his lips. He molded his mouth over mine and our tongues touched half and half. There was no lip-foreplay beforehand because supposedly Kenny liked what I did with my tongue so he'd told me to just "ditch the lips next time".

Rolling said tongue against his, flattening them together, I wondered what was so special about spit and mouths. It felt kind of nice since it was slippery and wet. Still smarmy, though. Saliva made everything easy, so it was cool when the surfaces just kind of slid around and melded into each other. But that was all. The action wasn't erotic, or attractive, or stimulating. It was just _there_.

His other hand snuck up on my waist, squeezing my hip with a brute force that I wasn't sure anybody expected from him. With me, he tended to release a rougher version of himself. He knew that it wouldn't affect me—my dad was an ogre and I'd inherited his thick skin—so I let it happen.

When he rubbed his body against mine, I remained firm, acting more like a post rather than a person. His thumb dug a curve against my hip bone while his tongue moved between our mouths. I bit his bottom lip, drawing it between my teeth before lifting my head. Kenny was smirking, rubbing the nape of my neck where it'd been previously abused. "You're probably the only guy I'd let fuck me. I bet you'd be good at it."

"How many guys have you said that to?"

"Just a few," he laughed. "But you're the only one that I'm serious about. Well, you and Stan." He was grinning now, slipping his fingers beneath my shirt. I didn't like how cold they were or maybe that was just because he'd mentioned Marsh.

"How about Stan fucks you and you pretend it's me?" Just so that I could one up that fucker.

"You're so strange. Maybe you're a dud, like you have defective hormones or a permanently limp dick."

"At least I look good flaccid." And then I sniggered. That one had gotten a chuckle out of me_._

The morning bell rang, interrupting our exchange. "Show me sometime, alright?" Kenny winked, removing himself from my side. "I'll walk you to class."

"Thanks, boyfriend." We were going to be late, but that was okay.

* * *

><p>The day had been relatively normal. Relatively because it wasn't everyday that I snogged Kenny and was told that I'd be a good fuck. Everything was nice and boring after that, just the way I liked it, but then I walked into fifth hour. My plan had been to be extra creative and articulate with the class period and, instead of sleeping it off, text Clyde random love poems off the top of my head.<p>

My first one was going to be a snazzy little ditty called Over There On That Mountain. It was about the bromance the brunette and I shared and how it would turn into a budding romantic relationship after I transformed into Kevin Stoley.

And then Tweek decided to remind me that we had a class together by dropping the day's homework assignment on my desk in the middle of class, which wasn't courteous at all. It was actually quite rude as I had been right in the middle of my fifth love poem—Dirty Sex on Segways at Midnight—causing me to accidentally send the text unfinished. The last thing Clyde would read was: _the wheels turn/your eyes burn/because I came all over your face because I am Kevin Sto_. That's when blondie had made his presence known.

I called him a cockblock before he knelt down beside my desk and gave me his pencil. I would've broken it in half except it was mechanical and I'm not sure how you'd go about breaking that. The entire time he was trying to get me to work on the paper, I couldn't stop coming up with other things to think about that weren't math related. After the first few unsuccessful topics—tapeworms and sleeping in sixth hour since fifth wasn't an option anymore—my thoughts seemed content with secretly complimenting the blonde for his growth in balls and wondering why that was so. He must've had an ulterior motive. Why else would he man up and play teacher even when the class was skirting him curious glances?

It was obvious they were bothering him, putting him "under pressure" as I'm sure he would've liked to say. There was a flush to his face and a twitch in his fingers and his eyes couldn't stay focused on the paper. Maybe he was just being a masochist, torturing himself by dealing with my insufficient knowledge of trigonometry.

I sat back and continued not to give a fuck. If he wanted torture, I could give him that.

"I have medication for ADHD and some adderall if you want it, dude. It might help you concentrate because you really need it if you want to pass. You've got a twenty-one percent and we're only three weeks into the semester."

His words lured a smirk out of me. What was up with this kid? He picks up and delivers my homework then suggests I take his medication. Maybe Clyde was right. Tweek Tweak wanted my nuts. Instead of taking him up on his offer, I figured that he needed it way more than I did. Declining was probably the nicest thing I've ever done for anyone.

So I told him just that, and he got pissed off at me.

* * *

><p>At eight o'clock, I called Clyde and Token in one of those infamous three-way phone calls. "Get ready. I'm treating Token to dinner for a <em>real<em> burger."

When we got to Roxxy's Diner, Clyde was still whining about not getting a free meal like our best friend. I told him that if he shut up I'd buy him a stripper the next time Token threw a party. Unfortunately for fatasses the persuasion of scantily clad, lap dancing bitches wasn't enough to domesticate them. So Token said he'd pay for Clyde which completely defeated the purpose of me paying for Token.

My ears didn't get the chance to pick up the soft 50's tunes playing overhead as we entered, for the first thing I heard was my name being called from across the diner. I caught sight of Red in her powder blue poodle skirt and bobby socks, snaking her way through pastel colored booths and tables. She ditched her drink tray on a clear tabletop before launching herself at my person.

I caught her around her middle, hugging her close while getting a strong whiff of her cherry shampoo because everything about Red was red. Her thin arms tightened around my shoulders, one hand slipping with a gentle ease through my hair. She mussed with my locks for a moment, pulling back to kiss my cheek with her painted lips. I caught her jade eyes, unsure of what they reminded me of, but they were glistening and that was probably my favorite thing about her. Her eyes were always happy.

"I've been wondering when you guys were going to show up. It gets lonely around here when nobody visits me," she pouted.

Leaning forward, I pecked the tip of her nose. "You don't need friends; you have coworkers. Besides, we come here all the time."

"A friend _and_ coworker would be even better." Red released me to welcome Token and Clyde although not as extravagantly as she had me. "I'm telling you Craig, if you'd just say the word, I could get you a job here so fast it's not even funny."

"I don't know," I mumbled, following her as she led us to our designated red stools. The first three were constantly reserved just for us, sitting directly across from the kitchen so that while she waited for orders we could make faces at each other. For the past couple of weeks she's been harassing me about the two of us working together. It was a commitment though, and I wasn't very good with responsibility. Only when it came to Stripe.

"_Please,_ Craig? You don't know how hard it is without a man around."

Fun fact about Craig Tucker: I had two male best friends and one girl best friend, and nobody ever seemed to notice. The thing was that I always wanted to please my girl best friend and the other two didn't matter except for Token. "Fine. Go ahead."

The smile that manifested on her lips matched her eyes. She pulled me toward her, cradling my head between her small palms and pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead. Clyde ruined our tender moment by blatantly cooing at our display of affection, and when I finally sat down, Token was smiling that suggestive smile he sometimes got when he saw something he fancied.

"You two are perfect together," he stated when Red left to get our drinks—memorized by heart.

"I know," I said.

"Why do you have to be asexual?" Clyde moaned, dropping his head against the counter. "That was so cute and you honestly have no idea because if you did then you'd be going after her. Ugh, her boobs are adorable."

"I know. I've seen them." They were cute, small, and perky. Kenny, for some reason Stoley, and I were the lucky few to have seen them. At different times, mind you. The brunette just hated being the odd man out even though there were plenty of odd men to consolidate with.

"You lucky fuck. I hate you."

"I know." Then after a pause, "You could get Cartman to show you some teat and pretend it was Red." Clyde didn't think it was funny.

At least Token was an amazing best friend and knew how to humor my comedic streak.

Red rounded the counter, drinks held above her shoulder with one dainty hand, asking what was so funny. "Clyde wants to see your tits," I told her.

She passed a teasing look to the brunette. He smiled at her, but it wasn't the smile that I liked to see. It was the smile he used when he wanted to pick up a girl and he was attractive so it always worked. Red didn't deserve a smile that was given to all the other girls, though, and I wasn't saying that she would fall for it because she was smart and knew Clyde for who he was and all of his tricks. Some she'd given him herself. I wanted her to see the smile that was rare because it was just that great.

So I tucked my arms beneath the counter top, reached out for his legs, and squeezed his knees where they were ticklish. "Awh, Clyde!" She crooned, hurriedly setting down her tray to pinch his cheeks. "Since when do you have dimples?" Red was going to be one of those adorable old women who left lipstick kisses on her grandchildren and got up in their personal space to ruffle their hair and clean their faces with the spit on her thumb. She was going to smell like all of those old perfumes that you never liked but always had a soft spot for because that was just what grandma smelt like.

Clyde's face was uncharacteristically pink as Red resumed her job. Pepsi was given to Token and I while Clyde was handed a diet. Because he's a pussy.

"I'm still not showing you my boobs," she said before walking away. I figured she had put our order in when she'd gotten our drinks which was proof of just how often we came here.

"I tried, dude. Sorry."

"She just thinks he's cute now," Token observed. "She's never going to show him her boobs."

"The only reason Kenny saw them was because they weren't sober so you've still got a shot."

"And you saw them _how_?" The brunette grumbled, sipping at his drink with a moody facial expression.

"Skinny dipping," was all I said. And one other time, but that was a secret.

Red came prancing back with a hop to her step. "Guess who's making minimum wage?" Her excited tone was miniscule compared to her exterior that did nothing but permeate exuberance. "You get to start tomorrow! We have the same shifts so we can head over here after school together."

"How did you manage that?" I hadn't been taking her seriously when she'd said the words "so fast it's not even funny."

"_Our_ manager loves me." Her wink just about put Kenny's to shame.

"Is he sexy?"

"Oh, yes. And he'll be coming out here in a second to meet you. There's no interview, he's just curious since I've been talking about you nonstop since I started working here."

One of my brows rose in skepticism as I was positive that this guy wasn't just hiring me based on her recommendation. To confirm my suspicious, I asked, "So how many blowjobs do you give him to make him so lenient?"

She treated the question like it was rhetorical.


	6. Step Two

Monday through Friday I worked at Dixxy's Diner so my tutoring time had dwindled down to the hour I had after school before I left for work except on Thursdays I went straight to the diner with Red. Over the past couple of weeks, Tweek and I had somehow gotten in the routine of leaving school together, going to my house for sixty minutes, then I'd drop him off at his house all the while learning and absorbing trigonometry.

Clyde was unhappy with this and I had to tell him that it was only for three more months. Well—he didn't like that one bit and like a baby, he threw a tantrum, saying he'd teach me trigonometry himself. I didn't even remind him that he'd stopped taking math after Algebra 2 his argument was just that stupid. He was upset that we weren't spending any time together to which I'd said that if he wanted to hang out with me then he could buy a burger at the diner. When he'd heard that, he'd thought I was insinuating that he was fat and that if he did go then he "might as well bring Cartman along so that they could be fat fucks together." I'd had to ask him not to do that, please.

My grade was now a thirty-nine percent and Tweek's tutoring was slowly but surely working. He assured me that our teacher would bump it up no matter what my grade was on the last day of school, even though that was in December and it was currently September, but that I should keep trying just in case. So I did and I wasn't sure why. I think it was because after the first week which had been the hardest, he'd started to look excited about being a teacher.

When I did good on the assignments and quizzes returned to me, he looked proud. Not of me but of himself. And strangely, that made me proud also. Not of him but of _myself_ because if it hadn't been for me actually trying then Tweek wouldn't feel the way he did.

It was weird because I wasn't sure if I was thinking for myself or for him, so I decided to cast it away from my mind. It was even weirder going in-depth like that.

At the moment we were on our way to his house so that I could drop him off. He was in the middle of rambling about angles and hypotenuses when he unexpectedly stopped. The only reason why I noticed was because I was actually paying attention, and that was a big step compared to the weeks prior.

Glancing at him, he didn't look to be in any kind of mood. He was just sitting there with his notes in lax hands, staring out the window.

"You give up on me already? I thought I was doing good."

He turned his head and I wasn't sure what to make of the emotion he wore on his face. It looked as though he were on an investigation like he was a detective. "You're asexual, right?" He finally asked.

"Isn't it a little too late to judge me based on my sexuality?" I meant it as a joke but my voice was just too monotone for stuff like that. I hoped he understood. Since he was gay, I didn't want to upset him when it came to a topic so fragile.

"I'm just curious."

"Of course you are." I came close to feeling bad about saying that one but then I asked myself why I cared if I upset this kid or not. Truth was, I didn't.

He wasn't angry, though. He perked up instead. "Can I ask you something?" I hummed an affirmative. "If you weren't asexual, would you like girls or guys?"

That was an easy one. People asked all the time. "I wouldn't care."

"That's nice of you." I must've made a face because he continued. "I was expecting you to be defiant about ever liking someone."

"Surprise." He smiled at my joke even though it wasn't a good one. "I'm going to ask you something, too." That's right. I _told_ him I was going to ask a question.

"Yes, I'm gay." Another glance told me that he was joking as well.

"Well, glad you cleared that up." He smiled at me and it was strange. All of his teeth were perfectly aligned and his gums didn't show. Was it natural to have such a perfect smile when you were so fucked up in the head? That wasn't my question for him. "Do you like me?"

"What?" It wasn't an exclamation, but the kind of "what" that you muttered after the most anticlimactic ending of all time. Had he wanted me to ask about his perfect smile instead? Because I still could.

"You totally want my nuts, don't you?" I said instead.

When he laughed, I didn't know what my opinion on it was. It didn't make me want to laugh with him like Token's did although it was soft on my ears and I guessed that was good enough. I hadn't expected the blonde to have such calm sounding laughter since he was spasmodic and all. "And you're asking that in all seriousness?"

"Yes."

Tweek was silent for a moment. A good silence that was a good ending to his good laugh.

"Don't get me wrong, you're really cute. But I still hate you for beating me up in third grade." I liked that answer and I wasn't sure why the hell the blonde was getting out of my car when I realized that I was parked in front of his house. How long had we been sitting there? "If you want, you can pick me up in the morning and we can study before school. We have that test tomorrow." He was speaking through the door, waiting for my answer so he could close it.

"That's fine."

By the time I got to work, I realized he'd put a "really" before the "cute." Yeah, this kid totally wanted my nuts.

* * *

><p>Token had dubbed my morning ritual—the one where I crawled out of bed and moaned, followed by stumbling sluggishly out the door—my "zombie walk". He must've unintentionally jinxed me because ever since being named, I pursued a zombie-like personality for the rest of the day whenever such mornings occurred.<p>

Unfortunately, today told me that it was a zombie day.

That's why I was dressed in camouflage sleepwear and "camouflage" wasn't being used as an adjective. My clothes were camouflage because they fit the dress code but in reality I slept in them. Literally. I had woken up today and left the house only bothering to grab a pair of shoes and my backpack. Didn't even brush my teeth.

So you could expect my reaction—aloof, indifferent, just plain old "don't care"—when my body remembered to pick up Tweek while my brain did not, and I had no idea where my car was taking me for the longest time, but I let it do the driving anyways until I reached the Tweak household.

Then I felt ashamed when I realized how much of an idiot I could become when I was zombified. To forget such a menial task was on par with Clyde's level of stupidity.

This was not okay.

"Hey, I-I hope you don't mind that I brought Thomas along but I totally understand if you don't want to take us anymore! There's still time to walk—" He sounded regretful. I figured it was because he hadn't asked.

"Cool story, bro. Get in the car." I was hunched beneath the wheel of my seat, busy trying to find a cigarette, and didn't feel like listening to this kid cry about whatever the hell he was telling me. My spare pack hidden underneath the seat grazed my fingertips. I pulled it out, smacking it against my palm to pack it.

From the rear view mirror, Thomas smiled at me. He looked strangely happy, maybe because for once he wouldn't have to walk to school. "I haven't seen you for a while, Thomas. Still got Tourette's?" There had always been a sort of fondness I felt toward him over his disability.

"Of course. It's a permanent illness."

"Awesome." Pulling out of Tweek's driveway, I handed my pack to him. "Pick one."

"N-No thank you. I don't want one." He raised his hands as though all he saw were dirty worms inside the package. To some people that _was_ what they saw, but Tweek would have to resist the urge to own a vagina for one second. "Just pick one." Uncertain, he leaned over the open box. Tentatively, he reached out a hand about as fragile as Red's. Disgusted, he plucked one after much consideration, which was ridiculous because there were only twenty identical picks to choose from. He held it out to me. "Flip it around and put it back." In a confused manner, he did as told, now staring curiously at the cigarettes. "That's my lucky. I'll smoke that one last and you have smoke it with me."

He blushed as though he'd done a remarkable deed, sitting back with a content set to his mouth. "I highly doubt that's going to happen. You're welcome, though."

_That's what _you_ think._ But since I was tired, I let it go for the time being.

Thomas laughed from the back seat, "You're so humble sometimes."

"Humble and a pansy," I mumbled under my breath. It was meant to be heard, though. I just felt like being quiet like I always did. It kept things nice and boring. The blonde responded with a cross scoff. I said, "It's true. If you're gay, you're a pansy."

"Seriously? That's a ridiculously stereotypical statement and completely wrong. Thomas is gay and he's not a pansy." After Tweek came out for his friend, there a strange exchange of thankful glances on Thomas's part through the rear view mirror. I wondered if that was his idea of secretive or if I was supposed to witness the weirdness of their communication.

Honestly, I just kind of felt like I was missing out on something.

"When did everyone decide to turn gay on me? Jesus Christ." I held my pack back out to Tweek, telling him to collect a different cigarette: one that I'd smoke on the way to school.

He did just so, over-thinking his pick like he had the first time. I didn't understand what was so hard about it but I let him think it over anyways. When I asked him to light it, he turned spastic, freaking out about how he'd drop the flame and kill us all. It was technically impossible seeing as all I had was a regular BIC lighter.

Thomas obliged to do it in his place though, and was oddly excited about it.

* * *

><p>I'm pretty sure that I passed out for a minute or two while my entire fifth hour waited outside the classroom for our teacher who was occasionally a dumbass and liked to be late. Lunch must've been an awesome time for him. Well, the wall was an awesome time for me because if it hadn't been there I'd be knocked out on the floor. And I was a tall fucker.<p>

I probably would've been the first kid to actually die at our high school through means of falling like timber. So that kind of accomplishment seemed pretty much worth it.

"Are you sleeping standing up?" If I didn't answer, he'd leave. "_C-Craig?_" Man, he just sounded downright worried. He wouldn't leave sounding like that. "Sweet Jesus, y-you're not in a fucking _coma_ are you?" A diabetic coma actually didn't sound too shabby at the moment. Clyde had shoved my stomach full of cinnamon rolls during lunch, making a coma a plausible excuse.

"I'm not in a coma." As my eyes opened, I glanced down to spot Tweek staring up at me, eyes alight with a crazed sense of worry. He looked about ready to piss his pants and the deep sigh of relief he let out was horrifyingly genuine. How had this kid honestly thought that I was in a coma?

"Just sleepy?" He guessed, washing his words down with a sip of coffee from his thermos. The exaggerated emotion in his eyes dimmed with the comfort of his drink.

"How'd you come to _that_ conclusion?" He narrowed his big eyes at my sarcasm, attempting to pass as indifferent. But I was the Indifferent King, and nobody beat me at that. Especially little blonde boys with no self empowerment. When I refused to admit defeat and continued to drill my stare into him with blank owl eyes and a relentless willpower, he snapped his head in the other direction and broke eye contact.

"Are you ready for the quiz?" He asked sheepishly. _That's right, bitch. Who's your daddy? Craig motherfucking Tucker is._

"Of course. I just came out of a coma and now I'm all set."

"Good, because I didn't tutor you for nothing so you better get a good grade." I stood corrected. Especially little, blonde boys with no self empowerment who _sometimes_ had backbones. "If you feel like your falling asleep, I'll seriously give you some adderall."

"No thanks. You need it more than I do." The blonde flinched, insulted by my statement. I would've apologized by covering up my obviously hurtful words with sarcasm or by telling him that it had been a joke, but there was never a point in lying.

I had meant what I said and I believed that Tweek understood that because he didn't ask me a bonus question like he always did before every quiz or test. He didn't look at me for the rest of the period or ask whether or not the problems had been easy or hard. He didn't ask our teacher to grade my paper early so we could find out my score right then and there. He didn't freak out, all excited, over my good percentage or have to calm himself down with one of his little yellow pills because we never did find out and our teacher gave me an odd look when Tweek fumbled out the door by himself.

He was acting like I had just betrayed him except there was nothing _to _betray. We weren't friends or acquaintances. I didn't even know _why_ the hell Tweek had started talking to me and it wasn't because he wanted to help raise my math grade. The blonde either had a boner for me or was a weirdo. Quite possibly both. Either way, he didn't have to treat me like he thought I murdered his cat. He probably didn't even own an animal.

Why were gay guys such bitches? And I would know. Clyde was pretty much as gay as they came and he was a huge bitch.

I ended up sitting through sixth hour wondering what I had gotten on my quiz. Had our teacher graded it on impulse since we've asked him to do my paper first so many times before? But the quiz wasn't even an issue—of course I passed it. My problem was the upcoming final _test_. If I failed that...shit. The blonde was my brain. I had to get him back, at least until the end of the semester.

* * *

><p>When school let out, I picked my way through the crowded hallways and shoveled past the annoying bystanders who thought it was cool to stand like figurines in the middle of the floor. Poor kids didn't know that I drove like a drunk driver and knew very well how to barrel through road blocks.<p>

Tweek was easy to find, standing next to Thomas who looked to be feeling the brunt of some kind of angered lecture from his friend. I mean, he stuck out like sore thumb with his obnoxious blonde hair and constant stench of coffee. I wondered if he shoved coffee beans down his pants every morning or something. Not that he smelled bad; I just thought coffee tasted like shit.

"Hey, Coffee Bean," I called. "I'm not done with you."

At my sudden intrusion, both of the boys jerked in surprise. Thomas's entire facade woke up, gleaming with exuberance—which was strange. Tweek was the exact opposite, dismissing my greeting by avoiding my entire presence. His cheeks were pink and I presumed that was because of the nickname I'd entitled him with. Too bad for him I was ridiculously straight-forward.

"Give me your adderall if it makes you feel better, alright?"

He turned away from me, whispering, "I don't want to give it to you now."

Wow. This was like talking to Clyde when he didn't have any money for lunch and nobody was willing to pay for him or share. "You're seriously going to act like this? Roofie me, then. I don't give a shit. Just make sure I pass this class."

His jaw ground together, lips tight as he contemplated a decision even though he didn't have one. This little shit was just being stubborn. Exactly like Clyde, which was good I guessed, because that meant I knew how to deal with him.

At his side, Thomas shook his shoulder, and the movement was oddly distinguishable by the way he was staring at Tweek with a look of distinct longing. He urged Tweek through the action of his hand to accept my very unflattering order. Thomas was almost acting as though my passing grade was as important to him as it was to me.

_That's not creepy._

"Fine," Tweek muttered. "But only b-because I've gotten you this far and it'd be a waste of my time if you failed now and—"

"Awesome. I'm going to stop you there because you're just rambling and nobody cares, alright?" He nodded his head fast, cheeks brightening further. This kid got embarrassed way too easily. "So are we good with tutoring today?"

"Y-Yeah, sure, of course. I—uhm, Thomas?"

The golden blonde blinked rapidly, seeming to have been fixated on me for quite some time. I was internally frowning at that. Did I look like an idiot today? I thought sweats were a fairly regular article of clothing, especially on zombie days. Maybe my pits were extremely hairy.

After a quick glance, I deemed them normal. More than normal, actually. They were fucking godly.

"C-Craig?" Tweek's voice sounded uncertain. I met his stare—a mixture of curiosity and a smidgen of fear—with one of my own that was a different mixture of blankness and innocence. "What were you doing? I-Is there a bug or something? I have repellant in my backpack—"

Sometimes it was just best to cut him off before he got started. "I was just checking for excessive amounts of pit hair." And sometimes it was best if one just didn't even question me, because that just sounded fucking weird.

"_Excessive amounts of pit hair? _Sweet Jesus!" Tweek's shirt was bunched up in his little fists and caught under his neck as he inspected his hairless armpits, looking up at me with such urgency when he found them empty. "Is none okay?"

I figured that the people passing by were staring since there were two strange oddities to look at: Tweek had his chest exposed, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing at his absurd question. _Is none okay?_ Although there could be three if you thought Thomas, Tweek, and I hanging out in the hallways was off, and it kind of was because neither of the two were black or on the football team, and both of them definitely weren't ladies men.

"Do you shave your pits or something? Or have you not hit puberty yet?" I asked, simmering my laughter down to a light, teasing tone.

"Body hair is gross." Was that supposed to be a jab at my manly exterior? "N-Not on you. It's just—damn it, that came out wrong. I think it's fine on other people, sometimes not everyone; on certain people it's just gross, b-but not me. Like, you look okay with it—n-not that I've been paying attention! I—fuck, man." To save his face, I was just going to ignore that entire spiel.

"So do you shave your pubes, too?" The embarrassed squeak that flew from the blonde's mouth—dude, it was weak. I was beginning to think that Tweek was a hermaphrodite.

"I'm not telling you!"

"You do." I smiled charmingly down at him, feeling mirth in the way his breath caught, the way his neck grew speckled with pink. That satisfied me. "Alright, let's go. You need a ride, Thomas?"

"I'm fine. Kenny's giving me a ride—_bastard_! Be careful: he's coming up behind you and he's going to grab your ass." I was too uninterested to block my vulnerable behind, but I did care enough to at least turn my head to watch him do it, which he did showing a mouth full of teeth.

After groping me, he nuzzled the tip of his nose into my hair and mumbled a few words against the shell of my ear. They were too slurred to be coherent, and I might've thought they were important, but nobody ever knew when it came to Kenny. You just took what he gave you and dealt with it.

"I hope Craig hasn't been too much of an asshole." Kenny's wishful thinking was directed toward Tweek. "I heard about your guys' discovery at Burger King. Stan and Kyle weren't too happy with Craig's behavior, so I figured he's been treating you the same way."

"That was weeks ago," I filled in.

Tweek spared me a glance before answering. "Craig's always an asshole." Everyone got a laugh out of that and I wasn't sure why.

"The only reason you're getting away with saying that is because I won't graduate without you."

"I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." Tweek's words were like sugar and syrup, completely sarcastic.

"God, you're gaying up the hallway."

"Oh yeah?" The blonde challenged, figure straightening in a way that would've been threatening had I been a foot shorter. _Not_ taller. "I'm going to gay up your car, too. And your house. How do you like that?"

"As if you haven't already?" His frame deflated at my sudden comeback. _Suck it._ "You can gay up my life all you want just as long as you don't touch my room. You're too scared to go in it, anyways."

"You're scared to go in his room?" Thomas sounded baffled and slightly disappointed. Had he wanted to know what it looked like? It was worth being disappointed over seeing as the golden blonde would never get a description. Although sadly, it was the truth. I had been trying to move the whole tutoring ordeal into my room whenever my dad came home early, but since the mention of demonic activity, Tweek wouldn't even walk by my closed door to go to the bathroom.

"Dude. Craig's room is fucking awesome, Tweek." Kenny sounded genuinely shocked, which was always fun to see because he usually knew everything. It was a relief to be reminded that this wasn't the case. "He's got so much random shit in there. Craig's room is fucking Craigifer Reece Tucker in a nutshell. You wanna know this guy? Check out his crib," he said sarcastically. His meaning was meant to be taken literally. "It's the window to his soul." Which was just a slight exaggeration.

It was pretty obvious how the two short blondes froze in reaction to hearing my full name. It was _really_ fucking obvious. They looked like little twin gargoyles. Creepy little things because everyone was always creepy when they discovered who I actually was. Not that I was anyone special. My complete name was just never expected.

Proof being the petite best friends before me. Proof being Kenny when Clyde had let it slip to which he'd then forced my mom into showing him my birth certificate. Proof being Red when I admitted that "Craig" was just a short version of my first name like "Red" was for Rebecca. She'd claimed that we were best friends on that comparison alone. Proof being my sister's little buddies when they admitted to having a crush on me without knowing what I looked or acted like, basing their infatuation purely on a first name basis.

What made it extra creepy was how much my sister liked it and how often she bragged to her friends about how cool of a first name I had.

I thought Reece was pretty catchy also, but Craigifer always took the spotlight for some reason.

Without a word I started walking, refusing to cope with the awkwardness that I only I ever seemed to feel in situations regarding my birth name. To me it was definitely time to leave and if I had to do so without Tweek then a shit wasn't going to be given. I'd care later, but that didn't matter until then.

When I exited through the double-doors, that was about the time the blonde caught up, bustling out after me with a winded look on his face. It was hard to believe that the short run had really been that exhausting. If he was a couch potato I'd understand, since I was one too, but I didn't think he was the type.

Maybe my name had left him breathless. Maybe he was secretly friends with my sister.

"Is your first name really C-Craigifer?" He asked with a tender voice, eyes full of interest.

"Craigifer Reece Tucker." It was such a finalizing statement to say all three in combobulation. Maybe it was just a guy thing. Like when I got married it'd be like _B__itch, you're a Tucker now_.

"I didn't even know there was a long version of Craig. It's so different a-and I can see it. I mean, t-that's a perfect name for you I think! Not that I know you very well or anything but you seem like a different kind of guy or—uh, person in general. That's really cool how your parents found it or thought of it because I'm just—you know, Tweek Tweak. Mine gave me the same name twice a-and I don't even have a middle name!" I'd thought something useful was going to come out of that ramble, but apparently I'd been wrong. Except maybe the part about no middle name.

"Is that why Kenny always puts 'motherfucking' between Tweek and Tweak when he greets you? Because there's just an empty space?" The blonde frowned. That sounded a bit ridiculing, hadn't it? "So I can call you Tweek Dicksucking Tweak from now on, right?"

His fragile hand, delicate like glass, stabbed me in the side and it literally felt like someone had struck me with the edge of an underestimated, shattered mirror. I yelped in an utterly mind-blowingly masculine fashion, and grabbed the blonde's offensive hand by the wrist which caused him to reenact my previous noise in a way that actually made mine sound manly. Forget hermaphrodite. This kid was a woman in disguise.

He tried to pry his limb from my grasp, twisting his thin wrist inside the circle of my fingers. After whining my name a few times—the shortened version—I lugged him in front of me. Tweek stumbled a few steps over his own feet before I steadied him with my hands on his shoulders. Through the thickness of his coat was the frailness of his bones, and I realized just then how different this little blonde kid was compared to my best friends. How different he was compared to me. I felt like I'd crush his shoulder blades if I squeezed too hard.

"W-What are you doing?" His voice shook with an emotion like fear or unwanted anticipation. Did he always think that I was going to hurt him? Push him around? Belittle him? I did it a lot, but not to mock him or purposefully attack him. I was just as Kenny said and everyone else thought: I was an asshole.

My arms wrapped around his chest, and the blonde's skin was cold when the top of my hand brushed against the underside of his chin. I pushed him forward with my chest against his back to keep him walking. The chill sticking to the strands of his hair tickled my cheek as I lowered my face to rest atop his fluffy mane. Tweek was so tense in my hold that I was worried he'd trip and break apart into little ice shards.

"You know my full name now, so I have to treat you like this," I informed, the words pressing warmth against the shell of his ear. "You've been initiated into my coven. Just a heads up, I'm a little weird."

"Coven? But I'm not into w-witchcraft. I don't have Wiccan blood, either!" When I snorted, he calmed down, boots shuffling awkwardly against of sidewalk, while I tried to side-step his feet in order to keep ourselves from falling. I didn't feel like collecting all the itty-bitty broken pieces of him. "Is this your way of saying we're f-friends?"

"Something like that," I said.

It was then that I wondered how the hell I'd survived the whole day without a jacket.

Maybe I really was a zombie.

* * *

><p>Is anybody else as turned on by the name Craigifer as I am?<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Tweek's point of view:

* * *

><p>"Promise me there are no demons."<p>

"I already told you that I was joking."

"Haven't you ever seen Ghost Hunters? That shit is real, dude! _Promise_ me there are no demons."

"Jesus Christ, there aren't any demons." Then a pause. "That I know of."

"Sweet Jesus!" I shrieked, attempting to maneuver my way around Craig.

The kitchen was so much safer than this hallway, and that's where I wanted to go. I could practically feel the venomous aura sleeking out through the bottom of his door.

What if it grabbed me and dragged me under? I was small, but I wasn't tiny. There was no way I'd fit unless I was crunched down to the width of a piece of paper. My imagination was revealing to me the demented cracks and pops of my ankles getting sucked through that infinitesimal space; my knee caps separating, sliding up my thighs—too big to fit. "It's a f-fucking human _cheese grader_, Craig! Don't make me go through it!"

I didn't care if he had no idea what I was talking about. Whenever I freaked out, nobody ever did. You'd have to literally perform some impossible voodoo mind telepathy and actually _see_ what I was imagining to understand my reasoning—but I didn't want anyone inside my brain. I didn't want anyone to witness the same things I was. Paranoia wasn't easy to deal with and neither was an over-active imagination_. Sweet Jesus, why isn't that pill kicking in yet? _I'd taken one on the way here but my body was still unaware of its presence.

"This is too much pressure, man! I seriously don't want to go in there!" But Craig wasn't letting me move. He had me pinned to his bedroom door and he was so much stronger than me as he kept me immobile with one arm, his other heading straight for the doorknob. "God, no! God—God—_no_!"

The door opened, but even without the sickening creak that came with haunted places, it was still the scariest moment of my life. I had been expecting some type of demonic assault like legions of crazed, bleeding bodies. Perhaps a troll nipping at my calves if anything, but what I got instead was completely unaccounted for. Where were the bones and souls and crawling things?

All I caught a glimpse of before I tripped backwards over the heels of my own clumsy feet were white walls and a window covered by a thick, black sheet. _Not_ a tarp made of human skin. Craig grabbed my forearm, returning my center of balance. I swung my head around his room, eye catching surface objects—the ones you always automatically saw first—or in this case: the ones I didn't see.

There was nothing adorning his walls except for one of those flimsy, stick-on mustaches you'd buy for fifty cents at a coin machine and an old Polaroid snapshot of Clyde and Token wearing said mustaches while smoking cigars. In the blank space beneath the photograph it said _we're sophisticated_ in Craig's handwriting. His aged script with all of its quirky lines and robotic spacing was easy to make out.

He had no dresser, no chairs, no desk. Just a table made of glass in a funky shape. On it sat many weird, little trinkets. Some of which I hadn't seen in quite a long time. There was a Polaroid camera, cassette tapes by old musicians like Gene Pitney and Johnny Cash as well as a misplaced record by The Cowsills whose name sounded vaguely familiar. A glasses case—flimsy like the kind old men used—an ornate pipe designed as a penguin; a stack of twenty dollar bills, and a piggy bank one would need to break to get change out of were haphazardly strewn. The majority of my interest was snagged by a signature black rotary dial phone. It was plugged in and everything. I never would've thought of Craig owning old objects like these.

My attention was then caught by what lay beside the other wall. It was a giant contraption full of colors and curves and sizes. The plastic home spread from one corner to the next, just below the window. In one of the cubicles there was a spinning wheel and in the wheel ran a guinea pig. _Stripe._ He had to be the most spoiled pet I'd ever seen in my entire life.

Two other doors which I figured was the bathroom and a closet laid opposite Stripe's mansion. A bed was set up in the middle. It was huge although there wasn't much to make the space cluttered so its obese figure seemed to fit just fine. No video game console or DVD player. No TV. No computer. But there _was_ a tall, organized case full of records. Beside the collection was an actual record player in all of its timely glory. The woodwork was in pristine condition as far as I could tell as though it had been refurbished.

"Your room is clean." _Bold observation, Tweek._

"Thanks." Jesus, I was an idiot sometimes.

Finding an interest in something, I wobbled over to the glass table. I wasn't sure if I had permission to look around, but Craig didn't seem to care—like always—so I allowed my uncertainty to take a short leave.

When I pictured him I thought of underwear littering the floor, an abused mattress, possibly a few left over bras from midnight scandals. But not this. Never this.

Suddenly, I wanted to see his closet. Maybe all of his washed out jeans and bland shirts were just disguising a hidden style.

"Is it alright if I look in your closet?" The question came out rushed, embarrassed-like.

Craig was on his bed, leaning back on his palms. I tried not to stare at the way his arms flexed to keep himself up or how wide his chest looked in the wife beater he wore. Those were details that were meant for Thomas to scour.

"Have at it. I already told you I'm not gay, though." He winked at me when I gave him a pointed stare.

"Not for long. I'm gaying up your room, aren't I?" The way his nose scrunched up in rejection to my question—oh God, it was cute. I hurried toward his closet so I wouldn't have to look at him anymore.

The doors he had on them were like folded fans. They opened up accordion style, unfurling racks of hanging clothes. Craig's everyday articles were easily spotted. The blasé colors, dull fabrics, lazy coats. It was all there next to his ripped jeans and cut-offs. For a second I thought I'd misjudged my assumption.

Just a second, though, because hiding between everything boring was exactly as I'd predicted.

"I totally called this!" My exclamation was mocking and proud even though Craig had no idea what I was calling him out on. "I knew you had actual clothes in here!"

"Yeah, because I just go to school every day nude."

"No, that's not what I meant!" My cheeks flamed, which wasn't fair. I could never one-up this guy. "Dude, Craig, you have a fucking pea coat in here!" Uncontrolled, my hands swam through his many hanging clothes. There were leather jackets that looked costly, sleek, and robust; modern double-breasted jackets with popped collars, flipped lapels, and slim arms. His pea coats were sophisticated and dark, and I wondered if this was who Craig truly was.

I pulled a particular top away from the throng and just about tried to kill myself with it. It was heavenly. Craig seemed to have a thing for double-breasted pieces, I realized, ogling at the rich maroon cardigan in my grasp. The fabric was finely pressed with a cross front that would create a deep V when worn. My entranced eyes devoured the faux welt pockets along with the idea that if Craig wore a skinny button up beneath it, then its deep red color would pop and—_Oh my God_.

There were shoes.

_There were fucking shoes._

Not the shoes he wore and didn't care if they got dappled with snow or mulch. Not the shoes he traded Clyde with when he felt like wearing something different. These were important shoes. These were _fancy_.

I felt like I was watching _Who's Line is it Anyway?_ with Ryan Stiles. Every episode he had an exotic, unique pair of shoes and all of theme were _beautiful_.

My immediate attention was floored by a slimming pair of _beatle boots_. I couldn't even picture Craig _wearing_ them and it didn't look as though he ever had but just the fact that he owned them was enough. It was remarkable. Next to them, I couldn't stop myself from laughing at the sight, were suede red oxfords.

Powder blue Duckie Browns with an intricate leather wingtip patterning, classic-like high top brogues that I knew by the name of Freds. Even regular, suave brogues. They were all organized along the floor of his closet. "Craig..." I mumbled, staring at a striking pair of boots that almost looked like part of an infantry unit, only tasteful. Their body was constructed of a sturdy blue denim canvas with a leather espresso-colored ankle and toe box.

"Those are Grenson Glenn boots. They're my favorite." There was a stall and then came, "Those and the Duckie Browns." I jumped, his voice right behind me like a looming shadow.

"Why don't you ever wear this stuff? Some of these were _handmade_ in England, dude." A slender pair of Chelsea boots was winking at me, I swear. There were even stark white beat boots with a Cuban heel—my God, I was going to pull a Thomas here and say that I wanted them to click-clack all over my body. He totally would've said something along those lines had he been here.

It felt like I was slowly being picked apart. Craig's collection was just _gorgeous_.

"It's more of a hobby. I don't think people would understand if I went to school wearing half of the shit I own." I was about to protest when he continued saying, "Sometimes my dad has these fancy business meetings. I'll wear a certain pair to them if I feel like it."

"Please, please, tell me you've worn these." I pointed down to a pair of jet black Winklepicker boots. They had a pointed toe and three scandalous buckles.

Craig chuckled and it was the first time I've heard it sound so charismatic. "Yeah, I have."

A laugh fell freely from my mouth. That was a good answer. "And I _know _you've worn the Paolo Vandinis." Jag—the intricate, laser-cut design coating the pointed shoes—had to be one of the most attractive art forms I'd ever seen. It was like lace. The tweed-style Vandinis were equally flattering, but it was something about the hidden design of jag that was just so _classy_, especially when they were white.

"You know your shit." The ravenhead sounded surprised that I wasn't just looking at his shoes, thinking they were pretty, but that I actually knew what I was talking about.

"I might have a pair of Bugsy shoes in my closet somewhere," I admitted, crinkling my nose in embarrassment.

"Black and white?" When I nodded, he added, "Classic."

A soft smile touched my lips and I wasn't sure why. I just knew that this was Craigifer with the Grensen Glen boots and vintage phone, a polar opposite from Craig with the cigarettes and asshole attitude. And I might've been _very_ into his full name.

"So what kind of music do you like?" Now that I knew what his room contained, I had a feeling that the collection of music he owned wasn't LMFAO or Lil John.

"Oldies." My smile widened, and I moved over to the slender case holding multiple titles that were both unknown and well-known. Sam Cooke and his song Twistin' the Night Away. Jerry Lee Lewis and Great Balls of Fire. The Everly Brothers with Bye Bye Love. Simon and Garfunkel as well as The Beatles who both did Mrs. Robinson. Booker T. and the MGs. John Denver. The Lovin' Spoonful and their song Summer in the City (one of my favorites). Freddie Cannon. The Honey Drippers.

"You were born in the wrong time, weren't you?" I inquired.

When Craig spoke, he sounded wistful, like he asked himself the same thing on a regular basis. "You could say that." His statement had probably been the truest thing I'd ever heard him say.

Maybe I had been wrong about him. Maybe he was perfect for Thomas.

"You and Thomas have a lot in common, you know. He loves the sixties and seventies and Woodstock and hippies and weed and music and all that stuff." But even though I tried to put in a good word just as Thomas had suggested, all Craig did was hum.

I turned around to find him laying spread eagle in his bed, dark sheets coiled around his body like frozen waves. My eyes glinted at his unsuspecting state.

Since I was part of the "coven" so to speak he wouldn't mind if I opened up a bit because, in truth, I was kind of weird too—just like him. I hadn't thought of Craig as the touchy type, although that had been dismissed earlier when we walked in unison to his car, and I was fairly certain he hasn't thought of me as the attacking type, although I was going to dismiss _that_ by getting him when he least expected it.

So I took a running head start, leaped at the foot of his bed, and it was one of those deals where I felt like I was suspended in midair (but I didn't appreciate gravity tricking me like that because I was scared that I was never going to come back down) before I dropped mercilessly on top of his body. There was a split second slap before Craig cursed violently, and just as quick, I was no longer on his back but his chest. He was calling me a little shit, sticking me in the gut and ribs with his fingers.

It hurt, but I didn't want to stop laughing. "We're friends now!" I cried, trying to curl in on myself so I was less punchable. Unfortunately, I was much more sensitive through my back. "I'm allowed to jump on you!"

"Yeah, and I'm allowed to beat you up." He crooned, surprising me by lavishing my temple and forehead with a long line of saliva.

"You did _not_ just lick me." A laugh rumbled against my back and I had to admit that it was quite possibly one of the most attractive sounds I'd ever heard. Almost as attractive as his shoes.

His tongue swept across my blushing cheek, nicking the corner of my eye.

In a fit of spontaneity, I flung my body around until we were chest to chest, and without thinking, stuck my tongue out in revenge. It struck the underside of his jaw, slipping up the curve toward his chin. My taste buds picked up a hint of salt, nose inhaling a masculine scent of cigarettes and mint. His smell tickled my senses, distracting me as my tongue dipped against the invisible cleft in his chin.

My spine tingled, an abrupt shiver that coiled up the center of my back. It was completely foreign and I jolted when it happened, pushing myself away with a gasp.

"Gah! Why would you ever _lick_ someone?" I grumbled, trying to pretend like I was disgusted.

Craig laughed scornfully, digging his fingers through the material of my shirt into my skin as though he was trying to fit them between my rib bones. "You just licked me back, asshole." As if to prove his point, he dotted my nose with a brush of saliva.

Was he giving me permission to lick him back? Because after the initial shock of my spine wigging out, I definitely wanted to do it again. Would that be considered weird? That I wanted to lick Craig Tucker?

I did it anyways.

Tongue dragging up the side of his face, it rounded the contour of his cheek. I felt the barest hint of stubble, and something about that made my heart ricochet against my ribcage. I'd never felt it beat so thunderously before. My skin felt multiple degrees warmer, blooming across my chest and neck, accumulating on either side of my jaw.

"_Gross_," he teased, skirting his tongue across the apple of my cheek. I hoped he couldn't feel the heat radiating off it as I got his temple and he got between my eyes.

"I'll bite you," I warned. Except he obviously didn't give a fuck, because right after I threatened him, he nipped the tip of my nose. Offended that he'd beaten me to it, I caught the edge of his chin.

Then his head dipped until all I saw was the top of his thick, black locks. When his breath connected with the skin of my neck, I felt a surge in my pulse. It drummed until I could feel it in my wrists, and my temperature spiked as I felt how hot his breath was, making my already warm skin fluctuate in varying degrees of heat. His teeth clamped down, and I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination, but the bite felt so tender.

Unknowingly, my eyelids fluttered. Tendrils of his hair tickled my chin. My hands curled into fists, and I wanted him to do it again because the speed that my pulse was racing felt really good, and his breath felt really good, and everything was just really good all of a sudden.

Craig's teeth repeated the motion. Whether it was a different spot or not, I didn't care. My fingers twitched, knuckles brushing against his torso.

I gasped again, throwing my arms against his chest to push him away. "You cant d-do that! Are you _crazy_?" I spat, watching his blank face and wicked eyes contort in amusement. I was blushing, pink spawned on my cheeks like somebody had slapped me a couple of times. Is that what he was snickering at?

"Why?" The word was accusative.

I dropped my gaze to his dark bedsheets as I heard his question speak the answer for me. His why was jeering "because you want my nuts" or whatever other phrase he liked to use to describe my nonexistent crush on him.

"It has nothing to do with _you_. I just—I'm gay and you're a guy a-and you just cant _do_ stuff like that to me, okay?"

"So, basically what you're saying is that I just turned you on?" Craig asked with a devious undertone. From beneath his dark lashes, his eyes beckoned my interest, fooling me into looking at them. They were like frozen fountains of ice-water that I had to smash my way to get out of.

"_Barely_," I mumbled. "Does that satisfy you?" He nodded his head like he was three years old and had no idea what I was talking about. What a lie. Smug bastard knew exactly what I was saying. "So just drop it and don't f-fucking bite me or lick me or anything."

"Kinky." He took my glare into account. "I don't know what you're getting mad at me for. If it turned you on, you should've said stop before I kept going. Unless you _wanted_ me to keep—"

"Stop _talking_, I don't want to hear it! Your voice is annoying and nasally!" My fingers were in my ears, but they couldn't mute his laughter or the mirthful tenor following in its wake. "_Blahblahblahblahblahblahblah _." The gibberish only made him laugh louder, so I chucked a fist at his stomach to get him to shut up.

"Pussy fist," he laughed, grabbing my arm like it was merely a tissue falling through midair.

"You're a pussy fist!" _Such a classy comeback, Tweek._

"I love how eloquent you are. You wanna know what it does to me?" Before he could say anything, I slapped my hands over his mouth. He rolled onto his back, then his opposite side, attempting to shake me off but I did _not_ want to hear the answer to his question. My palms stayed flat against his lips, my arms around his shoulders and chest.

His back was warm against my torso through the material of our tops. Pressed taut against his body only made me that much more cocooned in his heat. It was a shock that he wasn't as iced-over as his eyes, that he was capable of emitting anything other than chill. But his breath and body temperature were steaming, as was his tongue that tried to pry between my fingers. The skin of our arms brushed as I maneuvered my hold over his mouth, and I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I purposefully kept our limbs together.

Craig was shouting something beneath my hands, something along the lines of "It turns me on". His fingers began kneading into my hold. I knew my efforts to keep him voiceless were futile and, easily proven, he had my hands tied around his front in the grip of just one of his hands in a pitiful amount of time. I hadn't been blessed with upper body strength. Obviously.

While I peered over his shoulder, I witnessed how petite my hands were compared to his. We both had spindly digits but there was a sheer difference in length and width. I shouldn't have liked it. I _knew_ I shouldn't since my most important argument was how much bigger and scarier he was—but I couldn't stop myself. I liked it. I liked it a lot.

Twisting my limbs out of his grasp and away from his body felt a little too much like force, and that wasn't a good thing. I had to steer the direction my thoughts were going somewhere else _now_.

I found that direction when I flipped around. Just a few feet away was the multicolored structure housing Craig's beloved guinea pig.

In the center of my very being there was a deep fear of animals, specifically pets. I would never own one, would never even consider it because I could barely take care of myself. Besides, Dr. Norris and my parents pretty much did that for me. Worse than that was the thought that somebody else would have a pet and somehow I'd end up hurting it or myself whether it be by looking it in the eyes and turning to stone (I've seen Harry Potter, I knew what the fuck snakes were capable of) or petting so harshly that clumps of fur and skin came off. The fact was that I just always figured out a way to screw things up.

"Is that—" My voice caught like a rock in my throat when I felt the weight of Craig's chin flop against my shoulder. He'd turned around like I had and his chest tickled against my back when we inhaled simultaneously. "W-Why do you have to be so _touchy_? Please tell you do this with everyone." Despite my off-putting tone, I just couldn't push him away. My arm was comfortable under the weight of his head, but that was no excuse.

"Why? You think you're special?" He sounded conniving like he was making fun of me. My cheeks pigmented and _now_ I wanted to push him away.

"...Was that just a very vague yes?"

"Sure, lets just call it that. You still want to be my friend?" This was an interrogation, wasn't it?

"You don't need to ask, dude."

"I need to hear you say it."

"Sweet Jesus, I—yeah, yes, okay." I was under pressure. I just wanted to get out of the spot light and move off into a dark crevice, away from the metal table and hand cuffs and good cop-bad cop. That's what he wanted to hear, wasn't it? A simple yes?

Suddenly he started laughing, his chest making the rumblies against my back. I scooted away, craning my head around to see him clapping his hands soundlessly.

"You are so easy to fuck with. I can't believe you. Ah, God, this is going to be a _great _friendship. You poor kid."

All I could honestly say was, "What?"

"But really," he looked at me, straight-faced, eyes like steel. "I might be someone that you just have to get used to because I will probably sleep naked next to you. There's a crawl space above my closet. When I was younger I liked to do house chores for old people so I could sneak through their shit and steal really, really old newspaper clippings—" There was a crawl space above his closet? _There are no demons my fucking ass! _Crawl spaces were _demon_ fucking _portals_!

Now he was just fucking with me on purpose. I didn't like that.

"I'd hate to one-up you like this." The words were tumbling from my mouth without consent. "But I put a hazmat suit on Christmas list every year."

Craig's eyes pinched at their corners and I realized it was due to his smile. The first smile I'd seen from him where his teeth showed. I couldn't stop myself from staring, particularly at his two front teeth. His right _just barely_ overlapped his left, and I thought that that alone made accepting this strange, new friendship perfectly fine.

"You know what?" He sneered. "I'm going to let you have that one, because I think I've been a pretty big douche bag to you lately."

"Really?" I shouldn't have sounded so proud. He was basically telling me that I got to be the weird one out of the two of us, which was still a pretty big douche bag move.

"Of course." He spoke in such an off-hand way that it threw the entire compliment over his shoulder as though he'd completely forgotten what we were talking about and had just guessed at what he was saying, hoping that it'd be right enough to make some sense. "So we're definitely friends now? You accept the Terms and Conditions?"

My stomach dropped.

Craig's friendship had Terms and Conditions? I couldn't even _read_ them, though. They were all locked away inside Craig's brain where it was probably like South Park during its worst snow storm. Even through telepathy or hypnosis I completely doubted that I'd be able to find them stuck under all those piles of cold winter ash.

He was so hard to figure out. I wasn't sure when he was joking, being sarcastic, lying, showing a sense of kindness. He was such an emotionless cage that when feeling _did_ come out, it was hard to comprehend which one it was exactly.

But when my eyes flickered up to his, it seemed like he was relaying an answer to me. Maybe he wanted me to say yes. Maybe he was curious about me, just like how I was curious about him. Maybe this wasn't all about Thomas anymore.

What if I could tell Dr. Norris that I wouldn't be getting caught up in Thomas's life like he'd warned me not to, because while I was trying to conjoin Craig's to his, I was now also doing something for myself? I just wasn't sure what that something was. It had something to do with Craig though, this disconnected body who seemed to ironically fit in just fine with mine.

And as I said "yes", I felt two things.

_A sense of finality, as though step number one could finally be crossed off._

"I just conned you in the worst way possible, I hope you know that. I got you the same exact way I got Token and Clyde." He sounded sadistically happy.

"What the f-fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You act like a douche bag, but they stick around. So you compliment them—make them feel nice. They accept. Then you act like a dick for the rest of their life and they go nowhere. That's how you do it." It was obvious that Craig had used a plan of his own, and it had worked. In that case, maybe I could get some pointers from him.

"So I'm stuck with you _forever_?"

His smile was ridiculing but radiant. "Pretty much. Don't think I'm going to be any different to you because you're fragile, either."

_And like I just handed over my soul, quite possibly to the one person who had misplaced his own._

* * *

><p>That night I called Thomas and told him step number two had been fulfilled, much to his chagrin. I hadn't liked that step in the slightest. It had been personal and <em>weird<em> like I was prying too much. I felt like I was acting _really_ obvious. Craig would find out that there was a different reason for shoving myself into his life than the fake one I'd presented him with. The "here, let me help you with your math homework, bro" would only last for so long and he was going to find out _fast_.

Thomas's reaction was one of extreme jubilation and uncontrolled cursing. "So what was his answer?" He finally asked once he'd calmed down. I was plugging my ear except it was the one opposite from the one pressed against the receiver and only made to amplify the sound of his careening cries. I guessed I was just a nervous ball of retard that night.

"Exactly what I told you: Craig's asexual." I wanted to leave it just like that. Sweet Jesus, I should've. But why couldn't I keep my mouth from shutting the fuck up? Why wasn't I protecting Thomas? I was his best friend—keeping him emotionally safe was my _job_. "But."

"_But...?_"

I sighed, unable to do my duty. Maybe because I had more pressing priorities. How was relaying the achievement of these steps more important than protecting him, though? How was anything ever as it was? Why did I have to get philosophical at times like this? All I was ever able to conjure were questions. It was a horrible trait of mine.

"When I asked him what he'd go for if he _wasn't_ asexual, he said he didn't care."

There wasn't a delay in the golden blonde's reaction as he whooped, "Do you _know_ what this means, Tweek? He'd totally lean toward our side!" _You're side_, I wanted to say. Because I wasn't a part of Thomas's crazy charade. But I knew that he'd meant our genders, not us as individuals.

"Awesome. I know." God, I was starting to sound like Craig. All monotone and—and _stupid_. That's all Craig was. Just a stupid boy.

"Stop being so sour, Tweek. I know you like this. If you seriously didn't, you'd be crying, begging for me to do it on my own." That was a lie. A huge lie, and I hated it when Thomas made a point and made _me_ lie about him lying. "I'm so excited for this next step, Tweek. You have no idea. So you better make me sound good..." His voice drifted, turning into garbled nonsense under the immense pressure of my own inner thoughts.

How right was his assumption? How much did I like this? Craig was, and he could never know that I thought this, but he was awesome. I hadn't known that he knew how to act like an actual person. He had a strange personality and a strange approach to people and an ever stranger sense of comfort when it came to personal space—because I had _never_ pegged him to be as _touchy-feely_ as he was—but it was okay. Craig was okay.

Craig, he was odd in the way he made me feel so comfortable around him. Yet I felt like that was a dangerous thing. Maybe he just had that quality, though. Maybe everyone just wanted to be _themselves_ around him because he wasn't going to judge anyone. He didn't care about menial stuff like that.

So then why couldn't I let Thomas like him? Why did it feel like Thomas was _forcing_ me into allowing his crush to continue? I thought relatively highly of Craig. Why couldn't I just let my best friend do what he wanted?


	8. Chapter 8

I love you guys. Your reviews make me so happy, honestly. (: My contact almost came out I was so excited while reading over the ones for this last chapter.

* * *

><p>It was Thursday, the day before our math final, and I <em>needed<em> to be tutored. _This_ was why people didn't get jobs during the school year. The one extremely fucking dire time I _had_ to get help—but no. Roxxy's Diner wanted to be a little bitch and turn me into a Super Senior which would indubitably happen if Tweek didn't jam-pack the memory section of my brain with all of our trigonometry lessons.

Sure, I'd have a second chance next semester but there was no way I was going to take two goddamn semesters of trig at the same time. God, fuck, no.

I'd drop out.

I'd get my GED.

Anything but that.

"Coffee Bean!" I called out, voice large over the hyper-sped hamster chatting of the students in the cafeteria.

Tweek and Thomas's blonde heads popped up at my call. A cropped piece of paper was quickly shuffled away into one of their bags but if it wasn't my math grade then I didn't care.

"You no longer have any plans after school today whether you actually had them or not, alright?" My order was final and I proved that by staring Tweek straight in the eye, preferably into his soul but I wasn't sure if I could actually do that or not. I practiced on Stripe during my free time, but unfortunately I hadn't made a breakthrough. More times rather than not it was the other way around. That beautiful guinea pig could pick me apart to pieces just by twitching his nose.

"Buy me a cup of soup and I'll consider your offer," Tweek chirped. What a little shit. His gaze was piercing and I realized just then that his eyes were green. Special fuck and his rare eye color.

"Nice try, but I can do better than that." He cocked his head to the side in curiosity. I felt like a little bread crumb trail would be the way to lure Tweek into my plan—he just reminded me so much of a baby animal—but lunch only lasted so long and Clyde would drown me in his tears if I didn't get him to a fast food joint in the next ten minutes, so I just didn't have the time to set up an intricate ploy. "Free food from five to nine at Roxxy's."

The blonde looked confused for a moment. He shared a quick glance with Thomas, who looked just as burdened. When the pieces seemed to click, he resumed our conversation.

"Are those your work hours?" He asked.

"Yes."

His brows knit. "I don't understand."

"Tomorrow's our final. You need to give me all of your knowledge before then but I have to work. So you're going to tutor me while I wait tables. You'll get free food and coffee—I don't care. I'll personally make you a milkshake or something. So if you say no I will drag your ass there and lock you to a chair."

The corners of his lips curled. "You'll make me a special-Craigifer-Tucker-chocolate milkshake?" Either I was condemning this child or he was just born a demon. Over the past few days he'd begun ordering me around or re-asking questions in this sly little way he had, and I wasn't sure if it was because of my corruption or, now that we were friends, if the real Tweek Tweak was revealing himself.

Haplessly, I had to admit that when he asked me—or sometimes he liked to go as far as _order_ me—to do something, I often obliged. Like the other day, he'd wiggled his feet at me and told me to take his boots off.

I did.

Tweek Tweak was a swindler.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Will I get a cherry?" Like I gave a shit. He could have a fucking apricot if it made him happy.

"How about two?" I shot back, calculating the way his eyes narrowed as though we were actually gambling over the amount of cherries that were on the line. Well, if he really wanted a cherry, there were jars of them stacked in the storage unit. He could hand pick one out if he wanted to.

His voice careened, "Are you going to feed them to me?"

_Things like that!_ He'd get this little edge in his tone and automatically my initial reaction was to give him the answer he wanted. He knew how to play me good, but that was the only advantage he had over me. I'd get him back eventually. I just had to save up enough fire-power.

"Just as long as you do your part, I'll do mine. We good on that?" The blonde's eyes shifted, focusing behind me rather than at me.

"We're good," he conceded just as a body collided into my back. I tipped forward momentarily before a pair of arms locked around my waist, pulling me into a secure embrace. Clyde's mouth pressed against my ear where he mumbled my name and a few words about starvation and taking too long.

"Alright, fatass, we're leaving." While pulling the brunette along, I threw Tweek a reminder over my shoulder, and met up with Token at the cafeteria doors. "I can't believe you let him do that. Do you see this?" My question was directed toward my situation concerning Clyde who still held me captive in his vice arm hold.

"Maybe he just needs some Craig Canoodling time. You haven't really been present the past few weeks, months, you know?" He informed, holding one of the doors open. We walked out and started down the hallway.

The Craig Canoodle was a term Clyde had coined to describe the moment in which we would cuddle relentlessly for many hours nonstop. If the two of us were interlocked but then separated under the two hour mark, it wasn't considered a Craig Canoodle. Craig Canoodles were performed in no-break time-frames. It was like our bonding moment, per say. Kind of creepy but sometimes best friends just needed to lay on top of each other and do nothing for a while.

"We went to dinner a few days ago. Stop being clingy. Nobody wants a clingy boyfriend," I scolded.

"Nobody wants a sexually inactive boyfriend but look at what I got stuck with," Clyde retorted, cheek pressed against my shoulder blade.

"I didn't know this was about sex. Token made it seem like it was more about spending quality time together. Here, just let me whip my dick out to make it up to you."

"Naw, don't bring that nasty shit out. Just tell me I'm beautiful and we'll call it a done deal." Sometimes I wasn't sure if the way we got over our internal issues was a problem or not. I mean, really. Clyde was upset that we weren't hanging out so we pretended we were boyfriends, and to make it all better, all I had to do was tell him he was pretty.

South Park did strange things to people.

"You're beautiful, especially when you wake up in the morning and you're all groggy and your breath smells like literal shit and one of your eyes is more closed than the other and you just really need to shave."

"Is that what you envision when you draw me?" He asked with mock passion.

Another close favorite of "boyfriends" was "the artist and his muse". In this imaginary setting, I had a handle bar mustache and Clyde talked in a woman's french accent.

"No, I just picture you naked for that."

"Why don't you put the two together? Isn't that how you do the other maids?" He sounded distressed, sarcastically so.

"You're not just a maid to me," I explained, imitating something heartfelt.

In my head I was twirling my mustache, glittering the dark strands with stray paint that had smeared against my finger tips. "But that idea of yours is _magnifique_." To enunciate my french accent, I lifted one hand into the air and held my fingers together to make a delicate point. "You are my masterpiece. Let me paint you."

"Alright," Clyde's voice suddenly donned a serious tone. "But this time I don't want five fucking balls."

I laughed, one memory in particular resurfacing.

A while ago when we had first created "the artist and his muse" I had drawn a stick figure—because that's as far as my artistic abilities went—of a naked Clyde with five balls and wrote _kick me in all of them_ then stuck it to his back. The drawing had eventually made it into the yearbook and the brunette refused to forgive me for it.

"That wasn't my fault. Sometimes my hand shakes."

"Hey, guys!" My head, having turned to the side to converse with Clyde, straightened in time with the brunette's eyes as they peered over my shoulder.

Standing next to a set of double doors was Bebe. Her blonde ringlets bounced as she hopped to her tip-toes in order to hug Token. Their interactions were unfathomably sweet sometimes just because Token handled her so carefully. Her wispy figure seemed to hint towards that and so did her small smile and tender touches. But if you knew Wendy then you weren't an idiot to the fact that in order to be her friend one needed to be stronger than they appeared. And Bebe was her _best_ friend.

I knew that the reason behind Token's cautious behavior wasn't at all because he thought she was fragile, though. He liked her—has for a long ass time—so he was just being a gentleman by keeping her safe from even the most minimal things. He had the best qualities when it came to being a human and if Bebe didn't see that then I was going to _make_ her see it. I was also going to see it through that the two of them ended up together whether it was against God's divine plan, fate, any other bullshit I could come up with. That was just the kind of best friend I was.

"You eating lunch with us today?" I asked, reeling her in for a hug. She nodded her head and laughed when Clyde's arms opened up for her at the same time. For a quick second I felt like the Vitruvian Man, so that was pretty awesome.

"Token invited me. I hope you don't mind."

"Aye, Token doesn't even have to invite you. You can just tag along whenever you feel like it. I'm sure he'd like that, but don't tell him I said that." As she pulled away, I winked, and the way her cheeks brightened told me that I wasn't going to have to fight to put these two together. It was going to happen on its own as it pleased.

"Thanks, Craig. I'll make sure to remember that." She bashfully avoided Token's gaze when he held the door open for her. I refused to say "us" because it was cuter when the action was specifically for Bebe, so I'll just say that Clyde and I managed to sneak through before the door closed.

The wind felt like it was dressed with spikes of ice, but that just seemed to make it all the more better as Bebe cowered behind Token, using him as a shield. Clyde had removed himself from my backside and now took to my regular side, the right if you wanted to get technical.

He was trying to man up to the angered weather, put on a show for the girl. I told myself that it was just a reflex for him. That when he saw a girl, he automatically had to play a different character—but this was Token's territory and he was ultimately going to destroy our friend's chance if he didn't return to Clyde Donovan: number one pussy; not Clyde Donovan: handsome asshole who played girls because he just didn't know when to stop.

"Get the fuck behind me." My growl was low and terse, vibrating against his ear. With a hand on the back of his shirt collar, I threw him back to his original placement at my backside.

"What the hell, man."

I punched him in the shoulder to shut him up. "We're on a double date right now, okay? Now be a woman and stay the fuck behind me."

"You don't fucking get it, dude." He saw where I was going and didn't want me to obliterate his chance to get in Bebe's pants. What _he_ didn't understand was that this was for _Token—_not him. "I'm a sexually active male with no hormonal issues, very much unlike you. If I see a girl, _I will get that girl. _She's innocent to my ways, man. That's bonus points right there!"

Clyde was talking back to me. The penalty for that was murder.

"This isn't about points, Clyde." My feet came to a halt and I spun around to stare at the brunette. I knew my features were straight and strict, but I hoped he could see the incredulity over how he was betraying our best friend in my eyes. "This is about Token."

"Kenny would understand," he mumbled, gaze downcast, unwilling to admit that he was being a dick.

"Kenny's a fucking whore, dude. And you're a player, so just leave one goddamn girl out of it. I'll hook you up with Red, I don't care, just not Bebe."

And the idiot's whole exterior brightened up just like that. What a prick.

"You're serious? Awesome, dude!" He had the nerve to clap me on the back and hurry on over to catch up with Token and Bebe like that conversation hadn't transpired at all between us.

I stood there for a second, honestly just kind of pissed off. His ignorance toward our best friend was completely ridiculous sometimes. I could care less for the girls he screwed over, but this was _Token_. He'd made it obvious that the fight for Bebe wasn't over yet, simply by the way he'd just walked away. The brunette was thinking that he'd gotten Red _and_ Bebe out of our argument, which wasn't okay at all. For now he'd drop it, but only for today. That meant I was going to have to put him through some serious embarrassment in the short time we had for lunch.

As I trailed the distance my friends had created between us, my brain swirled with anything I could offer the curly blonde that would get her to despise the thought of possibly going for Clyde. It wasn't that she would, either. This was just a precaution in case she did because I didn't doubt for a second that the brunette knew exactly how to pique her curiosity. Getting girls was what he did and he was good at it.

If I told her he wasn't circumcised, that had a tendency to go both ways. Disturbingly so, some girls had a thing for that. I'd have to find out if Bebe did or not. I could tell her about the time I kicked him in the gut so hard that he shit himself, or last year when we he'd tripped out on drugs and tried to stab me with a steak knife.

There were many ways I could go with this, but the most important detail was that I had to turn Bebe off to the point where Token had a one hundred percent chance with her.

* * *

><p>When school let out, Red was waiting by the parking lot like she did every Thursday. She was talking to Bebe and they were passing the blonde's phone between themselves, laughing at what I could only guess was the picture that had been taken at lunch. We'd gone to the Deli across the street where Clyde had talked one of the female employees into taking a picture of the four of us and then gotten her number. I hadn't seen the image and all I knew was that Clyde had kissed my cheek in it.<p>

Tweek didn't know about Red, not that he should've or anything. It probably would've been nice of me to at least mention her, though, because right now he thought today was going to be like any other just without the going home tidbit. Unfortunately, I wasn't a nice person so he'd have to deal with the surprise.

"Red's coming with us," I said. _Surprise._

"Red?" He asked, face ashen from the cold wind. He had his hands buried up the sleeves of his opposite arms like you would a muff. "You guys are friends?"

"Very good friends. We work together and carpool on Thursdays."

"Oh. That's c-cool." I don't think he cared about anything other than getting into my car. The snide part of my brain, which was all of it, wondered what his reaction would be if I told him my heater was broken, which it wasn't.

Another look at his frozen exterior told me that teasing him like that was probably one of my more idiotic ideas and that I shouldn't act on it. Honestly, the blonde was acting as though he wore threadbare clothing, possibly nothing but a loin cloth if I wanted to exaggerate, but the jacket clinging tightly to his body appeared thick and cozy and his boots were taller than usual, with thick leather necks hugging his calves.

"I don't know how fast my cars going to heat up, but it's warm in Dixxy's." Tweek groaned at my offered information, whimpering when a particularly rough gust blew by. His hair flickered about wildly, spraying around flakes of snow that had caught in his blonde locks. His eyes teared up when the sharp cold attacked him directly in the face.

I called out to the redheaded girl, inclining my head to let her know it was time to hurry. She and Bebe shared a quick goodbye before separating. As the blonde passed, curls just barely suppressed by a hair tie, she gave a slight wave before rushing toward her ride. I looked ahead of her and spotted Token's hulking beast of a truck waiting in the lot. Satisfaction set deep into my bones.

Red started off in the direction of my car as the wind raged relentlessly. It looked as though the weight of its blow was tearing through her body, causing the cover of her clothing to flap viciously against her petite form. I looked at her in her short shorts and lace tights who found no hurdles in the grueling weather. Her integrity against the temperament of South Park's climate was the exact opposite of Tweek's who should've had an immunity for being equally native.

Was he like this every winter? Maybe it was some weird side effect from his medication like strange temperature fluctuations and he was just internally cold at the moment. Another downward glance and I couldn't help but chuckle at his distress. He looked like he was wading through water and sludge, lunging his legs as though the force of the wind was about to knock him backwards the second he lost his groove.

Tweek shot a glare my way, doe eyes watery. His cheeks and nose were freckled red. I was sure the tips of his ears were in the same famished condition. He looked like he wanted to snap at me but was too scared to open his mouth for fear the cold would freeze his tongue.

Removing my hands from the pockets of my coat, I drew them over Tweek's face, resting them against his cheeks. The chill in his skin bit at my warm fingers, but it wasn't unbearable. The blonde shuddered, causing himself to lose a step and his back knocked against my chest. I pat his cheeks repeatedly, luring the heat back into his face.

"You guys might have to battle it out for shotgun," I said, as there was only one front seat and whoever sat there would definitely get dibs on the hot air.

"Nonsense," Red retorted.

When I unlocked my car, she dragged Tweek and herself inside, the blonde on her lap. She buckled them in despite his guffaws and rejections. As I got in I was smiling because even against a girl Tweek couldn't win. He looked just as petite and skinny as Red and I thought for a moment that they could probably trade clothes without there being too big of a size issue.

"You got a problem?" I asked as I started the engine, heater already set from that morning. "Red and I could always switch places, you know, because you want my dick and all."

"The only thing I want is your jacket," the blonde grumbled, most likely rhetorically, but I was born for winter so I guessed that no jacket wasn't too big of a deal.

Shrugging the garment off, I tossed it to Tweek who squeaked like it was a giant, maniacal crow coming for him. Red was smart enough to use the article to her advantage and slung her arms through it, effectively locking the blonde against her body with the back of my coat. He played with his embarrassment for a moment before finally settling into the comfort of the warmth huddling around him. It was exactly like a makeshift blanket, body, and bed. A girl's body.

The blonde seemed to voice my thoughts when he said, "This is the c-closest I've ever been to a girl."

Red laughed, wrapping her arms across Tweek's chest to keep them from hanging awkwardly at her sides. "You're a cutie. This isn't the only thing I'd do with you."

My brows rose at her blunt statement. I was surprised that she'd go for a guy like Tweek. Did she have a hidden lesbian side that I wasn't aware of?

"Don't get too excited. Tweek's got a boner for me," I told her. Solely for this reaction:

"I do not!" Tweek cried, cheeks blooming. I wasn't sure whether it was the redness from the dwindling cold, because of Red's confession, or due to my teasing. My bet was all three.

"Oh, really?" Red mused, innocently prodding at the accusation I had placed. "You have a crush on Craig?"

"_Sweet Jesus_, no! C-Craig's just being an asshole!"

"Awh, he's blushing, Craig! He is so _cute_." Her fingers were tickling his colored cheeks as he made to twist his face away. "And you gave him your jacket. Look at you, Craigy-poo. You're turning into a miniature Token Black."

"We can only hope," I agreed.

"Bebe's really into him. She wouldn't shut up about lunch today and how much fun she had with him." That made me smile. It really did. Bebe talked about Token—not Clyde, but the guy who deserved her.

"I love hearing that. Say it again." Red giggled, repeating herself. "You think something's going to happen?" I asked after basking in "Bebe's really into him" a moment longer.

"Oh yeah. They're definitely hooking up in the near future."

"Is that what you see over the horizon, Madam Redinia?"

"Oh, yes. I also see..." The redheaded girl waved her hands through the air. Tweek flinched whenever one came near him. "A love connection between a gay blonde sitting in a girl's lap and..." She continued wiggling her fingers, staring off into the distance. "...A foreign man driving a vehicle."

"Damn, Tweek," I congratulated. "You're gunna get fucked by a Mexican truck driver. That's hot. Fucking on a drug delivery. I'd go for it."

The blonde hid his face in the palms of his hands, obviously not finding his fortune as entertaining as I did. "I didn't know y-you were Hispanic," Tweek mumbled between his fingers.

"Peruvian," I clarified.

His head snapped up, eyes seemingly smitten when they met my glance. "Seriously? I thought that was just a joke, dude."

"Nope. The majority of my blood is Peruvian. Not sure what the minority is." I always figured it was something European, but my dad was Irish so that was were I got my pale skin from. Thank God I didn't inherit his ginger roots. I'd have to be friends with the Broflovski's if that were the case. And then I'd shoot myself.

Tweek stared at me for a second, eyes alight with something that I wasn't familiar with and I wasn't sure if he even knew it was even there. "I'm not going to lie. That's" —one side of his mouth quirked up— "really sexy."

"_What?_" Red exclaimed in time with my sudden laughter.

I jeered at him, slamming my fist against the steering wheel. "Dude! I knew it! I knew you wanted my nuts!"

"N-No! I didn't mean it like _that_!" Tweek countered, sounding horrified as he attempted to reassess his confession. "It's just that one thing, I s-swear!"

"No fucking way, man. You totally just admitted to having a boner for me. You called me fucking sexy. Oh, man. This is great. You want to suck my dick. I knew it."

"No, I don't! _C-Craig!_ You're taking it the wrong way!"

"Fuck that. You want me every way."

"Oh my _God._" The blonde raked his hands through his hair, littering my car with fair strands that glinted in the light like spiderweb tendrils. "Please tell me you're joking. _Please_ tell me your joking. I honestly don't want you like that! This isn't _fair—_just because I'm gay doesn't mean I f-fucking _like_ you."

Red pouted, tsking me, as I pulled into Dixxy's Diner. "You upset him. Nice going, Craig."

"I'm just fucking with you, Tweek." He should've felt lucky that Red was in the car because if he'd said my Peruvian genes were sexy and we'd been alone, I wouldn't have let him live it down.

"I don't c-care. You're an asshole."

He was acting like Clyde again. Like an annoying bitch on her period. So I sighed and sunk into my seat after I turned off my car. It'd gotten to a lukewarm temperature so we were probably safe for a few minutes until the cold set back in. Then we'd have to haul ass to get inside the diner, and the door wasn't far but a chill was easy to catch and hard to shake off. Tweek needed a hotbox or something, something like clothes with a built in heat pad.

"Hey," I started, waiting until I had his attention. Although it was minute, his eyes flickered briefly and that was all I needed. "Let's go inside and I'll make you your milkshake and I'll put cherries on top and I'll feed them to you. Does that sound fair enough to you?"

"Sure, whatever." He unbuckled the seatbelt, grabbed his things, and shuffled his way out of my car. Little shit took my jacket with him, too.

I tossed my hands up, looking at Red for an explanation. "The fuck was that?"

She didn't even attempt to suppress her taunting smile. "You embarrassed him. He's not like Clyde or Token. Tweek has self-esteem issues and you just tinkered with his biggest weakness. He's out of the closet, but that doesn't mean he's not afraid of the ridicule, ya know?"

"He's afraid of _everything_," I replied as I reached into the backseat to retrieve my Dixxy's uniform. Calling it a uniform was actually just a long shot. It was more like my Dixxy's shirt with a name tag on it. The top matched Red's skirt. She liked to tell me that the powder blue shade complimented my eyes.

"Am I allowed to say that you guys are cute, though? Even when you're bickering?"

My brows arched and I asked, "Where the hell did that come from?"

"You guys were basically flirting the entire time. I just thought it was cute." I guessed sometimes I could be a flirt and a tease and not even give a fuck. It was one of those things that I had no control over. Shit just liked to spew from my mouth sometimes.

All I offered in response was a quiet hum before the two of us began changing our clothes, indifferent to the law as well as each other. Red was the one I had to keep a look out for just in case there _were_ any cops nearby. She had to strip down to her bra and underwear since she had the full appearance of a Dixxy's girl. The dress code was more lenient toward guys for whatever reason. I guessed we weren't as important whereas girls were the motif when it came to 50's and 60's diners.

When we stepped inside it was exactly as I had foretold. There was a crisp warmth in the air that immediately set to work combating the cold; the sweet smell of authentic food wafted from the kitchen as well as occupied tables, and soft music cooed from above, a mellow tune that turned the diner into a cozy place to acquaint and dine.

Tweek was seated at the counter on a stool with his books and papers out. He was wearing my jacket, just a few sizes too big. It hung loosely around his arms and waist. I imagined a time when perhaps teenagers actually did bring their homework to diners. No matter which way I thought about it, I kept seeing the homework left unfinished whether it was because of the distraction of friends coming and going, a good song that couldn't be left unheard, or the temptation of a classic burger and fries.

Sometimes life sucked when you weren't born in the right time.

I walked over to the blonde, leaning next to him with my elbows on the counter top. "Give me a problem and I'll work it out while I make you your milkshake."

He jumped at my sudden appearance, covering his mouth to keep in his alarmed squeal. Just as quickly, he glared and turned to glower down at his papers. I was surprised they didn't singe at the edges against the heat of his narrowed eyes. "A boat is sailing in the ocean off of a straight shoreline," he started, voice quiet. "Point A a-and B are one hundred miles apart on the shore. It's measured that angle A is fifty-two degrees and angle B is sixty-seven degrees. Find the s-shortest distance from the boat to the shore."

Straightening, I walked around to the other side of the counter where the equipment was. As I strung together the ice cream, malt, and milk, locking the tall, metallic cup in the machine that would mix the ingredients, I also brought together the equation of boats A and B on the blank canvas in my head.

The machine finished, and I poured the chocolate mixture into a clear glass with a stem. Topping it with whipped cream, I applied the correct degrees of the angles into a formula that would work. I idly picked out a ton of cherries during the final stages of the problem, returned to Tweek, and slid his milkshake toward him as well as a spoon.

He took one look at the volcano of cherries, and just like that, there was a smile on his rosy-cheeked face. "That's a lot of cherries," he observed, pushing his books aside to bring the beverage—or meal if that's how you looked at it—closer.

"There's eleven because I don't like even numbers." His smile widened, so I knew I'd done good. Reaching out, I plucked off the top cherry and held it in front of his face. "Open up."

The blonde snickered, scrunching his nose up, and I wasn't sure why it looked so familiar, before opening his mouth to the tiny fruit. His teeth closed in on either side and the two of us pulled opposite ways until the stem popped. He looked blissfully happy as he chewed, humming in elation at its sweet taste.

"The answer is distance B."

He looked up at me, confused for a moment as I had brought him from his content state. "Oh." He threw his eyes around his papers, searching for the equation. When he found it and the answer, he nodded his head. "You're right."

"Good. Now I think I deserve to get fed a cherry, too." I opened my mouth and waited.

Tweek pouted, begrudgingly choosing a cherry from his short stash. "I fed you a french fry and now you want a cherry," he mock-grumbled, dropping the red bud on my tongue. I closed my lips around it, pulling backwards until the stem fell away.

Speaking around the bit in my mouth I stated, "I take your boots off for you and make you coffee _at your own house_." That hadn't been a lie, either. One time I had dropped Tweek off at his house only to have him request that I make him some coffee before I left, which I had to because I had to work.

I was honestly ashamed to admit that I'd made him some.

The blonde laughed at the memory in a fond sort of way, as though he were remembering the fun time when he'd gone to the zoo although I didn't believe Tweek had ever or would ever go to the zoo. He'd probably piss himself. That or huddle into the fetal position until somebody called the authorities to take him home.

"I think I want a massage next," he mused.

I stared at him, skeptic. "Oh really?" He simply nodded. "Tie this stem with your tongue and I'll do it. I'll even get lotion or oil or whatever the hell you're supposed to use."

A determination set into his eyes, alighting the green with a scornful gleam. "You literally just walked into that one yourself." I knew I was in for it when he didn't hesitate to take the cherry stem and place it in his mouth.

My head dropped to the side. "No way, dude."

In less than thirty seconds there was a tied cherry stem sitting in the palm of my hand, mocking me, laughing at me, winking—the fucking cherry stem was just a huge asshole, and I knew exactly what I'd be spending my first pay check on while Tweek seemed ridiculously enthused that—_god damn it_—he'd finally beaten me.


	9. Chapter 9

"This is it," I mused to myself, standing in front of the door that barricaded me from my trigonometry class. I was staring intently, not sure what I was trying to get out of it, maybe in the hopes of opening it telekineticly, maybe because I knew that if I failed then I'd drop out of school and work with fast food for the rest of my life.

I'd gain three hundred pounds, possibly turn into a hoarder. I'd end up on those addiction shows because all my stomach wanted were some french fries. I'd spend my rent money on french fry shaped objects. I'd smuggle myself into France on the loosely based fact that french went with fry.

A girl named Wendy would be my wife because Wendy's had the best fries. On the side I'd have my love affair Jack because Jack in the Box had the best curly fries. He'd be a pubehead, but not a ginger. He'd just have a Jewfro. When I became addicted to meth and heroine, they'd put me on _Intervention_ and people would recognize me as the fat fuck from _The Biggest Loser _and _Strange Addictions_, maybe _True Life_ if I felt like being famous.

"Craig? You okay? You're not like _dead_ are you?" Tweek's voice knocked me out of my stupor, dragging me away from my future that was bound to happen if I didn't pass this final.

But if I did pass, what would my life be like then?

I tried to picture myself becoming a millionaire or the manager of some fancy estate restaurant. When that didn't work, I went with a Black Jack dealer in Vegas. All that I could come up with that seemed reasonable though, was partying over summer and getting shit-faced with Kenny.

"I'm just trying to find my balls. I think they went missing when I woke up and realized today might be the start of my gaining three hundred pounds and illegal passage into France."

Tweek actually laughed at that. _Damn, his medication must be good._ I would've figured he'd think I was a government spy and was working my way back to Headquarters with top secret information about the nuclear power plants in South Park, of which we'd soon bomb. And that I was actually a three hundred pound, perverted man.

"Do you want me to give you chills?" Was that code for _can I fuck you with a screwdriver and jizz all over your body?_ Because that's how creepy it sounded.

"What?"

"Thomas and I give each other chills before every big test. It knocks the nerves out of us."

Nerve-knocking sounded pretty legit to me, so I told him, "Sure. Go ahead." If I was about to get raped, then so be it. My body was ready.

"Okay. You're really fucking tall so I'm not sure how I'm going to do this." Oh yeah, I was going to get butt-fucked. "Take your backpack off." This kid wasn't going to leave me with a shred of hope, was he? "Let's get out of the way first." His petite hands pushed against my back, springing me forward. "Now close your eyes, and you have to listen to my voice." Oh God, he was a kinky bastard.

Against my internal jokes, I let my eyelids flutter shut. "Breathe in." His palms were still on my back, hovering lightly on either side of my spine. When I inhaled, they pressed just a little bit harder. "Breathe out." I let go, breath extinguished from my lungs. "Breathe in." There was the pressure of his hands again. "Breathe out. And listen to my voice."

His fingers slid up over my shoulder blades, across the back of my neck, tickling. Something landed on top of my head. He started talking, chanting almost, and his voice dropped low, like a whisper in the wind trickling over my ear through the cover of my hair. "There's an egg on your head." The outside sounds of the inhabited hallway echoed into a noiseless nothing. There was a crack. "And the yolk is running down. The yolk is running down. The yolk is running down." And the sensation like something was leaking, oozing, so slowly over me.

"Concentrate. Meditate. Listen to what I say." His voice was a ghostly whisper, beckoning me into a mindless daze. "Children are dying, babies are crying. Concentrate. Meditate. Listen to what I say." Between my shoulders, there was a prickling feeling like an object was poking me through the layers of my clothing. "There's a knife in your back." My heart pounded once, a vibrational beat, when he stabbed me. Slithers started down my spine, and I could see the rushing crimson on the backs of my eyelids. "And the blood is gushing down. The blood is gushing down. The blood is gushing down."

_Concentrate. Meditate. Listen to what I say. Children are dying, babies are crying. Concentrate. Meditate. Listen to what I say. _"_Tight squeeze_." My shoulders became bunched. "_Cool breeze_." The whisper in the wind cradled the nape of my neck. "_Now you've got the shivers_."

When my body wracked with gruesome chills—creeping, uncontrollable things—I jerked upon instinct and shook my arms out, wanting nothing more than to rid of the crawling sensation. "Holy shit, dude," I gasped. "What the fuck was that?" Lingering spider leg-like tickles were continuing to pinprick my body. "Fucking hell."

Tweek bit his lip, smiling at my torment. "Those are the chills." I was more than grateful his voice was back to normal.

"That was just creepy, dude. That was not okay. I can't believe I let you do that to me." My fingers shook out my hair, pushing away the imaginary egg.

"We should get inside before the bell rings," he snickered, ignoring me.

I picked up my backpack, following the blonde into the classroom only to find it strange that the hallways was still quiet even though I'd come to from the hypnotic daze Tweek had put me. Obviously because everyone was in their class, but it was still weird. Almost like everyone had disappeared as though I'd been sucked into some alternate reality.

God, those chills liked to stay with a vengeance. I was going to have to get Tweek to do that to Kenny or Clyde when they were on drugs or something.

After I sat down and got myself situated—this was going to be a long hour of possibly life-ruining test taking—and the bell rang in a finalizing sort of way, Tweek collected my attention by saying my name in a quiet call. I turned my eyes toward him, taking in his hopeful features and the encouragement in his stare.

"G-Good luck," he offered.

A packet landed on my desk, the corner nicking me on the hand as it fell. I brought my gaze to it, aware that there were forty questions inside, each one more diabolical than the last. And I think that's when it hit me: For approximately the whole semester I'd been studying, getting tutored by the paranoid kid from my childhood, and for the longest time I hadn't even known that I cared so much about passing.

It felt a lot like fate, like all of this was supposed to happen for some greater reason than anyone could comprehend, and I suddenly didn't think I had to be asking myself what was going to happen in the future. I had to ask myself what would've happened if Tweek had never come along.

I owed him more than a thank you. He deserved me taking off his boots for him, and when I made coffee for him, and the milkshake and the cherries and the rides home, and he probably didn't deserve my strange form of friendship because I wasn't a very good friend, or my jabs at his sexuality, or my harsh sense of humor and sarcasm. I didn't know what he deserved to be honest.

And I didn't understand why I was getting all sentimental over a trigonometry final, because it wasn't like I was going to change for him or treat him any differently. Maybe it was the thought that counted, or maybe I was just being really fucking retarded by trying to buy time so I didn't have to start my final.

That's when I decided that if I passed, I was going to give Tweek the best massage of a lifetime. I would even look up muscle melting techniques if I had to.

So when I finished my test, I handed it in and asked the teacher if he could grade it first one last time because this was the moment that counted the most. Tweek stood next to me because he'd finished before me, and we waited and it was like the final countdown or something equally stupid, and the clock kept ticking and I wanted to stop looking at it but it was either that or our teacher, and I didn't think I could keep looking him in the face because whenever I did, he'd grimace or put a mark on my paper, and I didn't like that one bit.

We stood off to the side, and we waited some more, and Tweek started fidgeting and pulling at his hair, but I didn't stop him because it was funny to see him freak out over my grade more than I was. Then we waited even longer and more tests were handed in, and the stack next to our teacher's desk was growing bigger and bigger, and the more I watched it, the more I wanted to know who had gotten a better grade than me, but that was just a thought to pass the time, except it didn't pass much, so it was pretty much useless, and we kept standing and waiting and I wasn't sure what to do anymore, and now Tweek was making me nervous because he couldn't stand still.

People were staring at us because they knew. They always knew and they always watched, and I figured they liked to judge our reactions when I got my tests back, although it was more like Tweek's reactions because I wasn't capable of supplying much emotion. Class was almost over, and I bet that if I were a three hundred pound man, I'd be sweating, because our teacher still wasn't done and fifteen minutes had already passed. I wanted to slam his face into his desk and smear his bloody nose all over my final so it would hide the bad score, because that's what I was thinking. That I had failed.

"Alright, boys, get over here. I'm done watching you squirm." Whether my grade was good or not, I was going to rub his severed head all over my paper anyways for purposefully making me wait just so he could fuck with us. What kind of teacher did that, honestly?

"You dirty fuck," I said, snatching my test out of his hand. The class laughed, and since it was the last day, our teacher let me insult him.

"Let me see! Craig, put the paper down; I can't see!" Tweek jumped at my side, standing on his tip-toes to get a good look at the paper in my grasp. I was positive he was staring at all of the little red dashes pockmarking the clean white sheet with scribbly answers just like I was.

My initial reaction was to throw up at all of the ugly hash-lines. And then I noticed that none of them were actually _on_ the numbers or the questions themselves. Our teacher was a cynical bastard for making it appear as though I kept getting all the wrong answers. God, I just wanted to rip off his jaw and eat it or something I was so pissed off.

Then my percentage caught my eye in the upper right-hand corner.

There was clearly an eight and a seven written neatly together. Eighty-seven. _Eighty-seven percent._ I got a B on my trigonometry final when just mere weeks ago I had had a C in the class overall.

Holy shit. I was a fucking brain machine.

Tweek was punching me in the shoulder, one fist right after the other, calling out "Yes!" with each throw. I wasn't even sure how long he'd been doing that, but my arm really hurt, so it must've been a while. I didn't mind, though.

At least it was better than grabbing my ass while handing out a "good job" like Kenny did after school when he heard the news. Tweek was telling everyone, making quite an apparent note that he was the reason behind it. His favorite person to tell was me. But I was okay with that because it was one of the things he deserved.

But in my opinion, he started going overboard when we arrived at my house and he was the first one inside. I walked in to find him talking with my mom in the kitchen. They've been like best friends ever since the week before last when she found out that I was being tutored. I think he liked her more than he did me and vise versa. Sometimes my mom could be cold-hearted toward me because whenever she made snacks for the two of us—on the rare occasion she was home when we were—she gave Tweek the bigger helping.

When they finally noticed my presence, my mom smiled and congratulated me while Tweek forced me to tell her that I only passed because of him. It was one of those deals where I just automatically did as told because I knew he wanted me to. I really needed to stop that. It was becoming a habit.

"When does Mr. Tucker get home?" Now it was just getting overly weird.

"You want to tell my dad?" I asked, idly resting my chin on his head of fluffy blonde locks. My eyes were interested in what was below him, though. The object that both he and my mom were blocking with their bodies. It was a cake for Ruby's birthday, and my mom's homemade cakes were the fucking best.

My stomach was getting the rumblies just by looking at it, and I didn't give a shit if the frosting was pink or if my sister's name was scrawled on it in pastel rainbow colors. I wanted it in my belly. The whole thing. I'd pull a Clyde and eat in one bite.

"He'll be home soon," my mom answered, removing the beaters from the now empty bowl of whipped icing. "Ruby wants an early birthday dinner. Why don't you invite Tweek to come along?"

That actually sounded like a horrible idea.

I rephrased her question with sarcastic sweetness, anyways. "Would you like to come along, Tweek?"

"Sure. I can tell your sister about how stupid you were before I tutored you." And to top off the insult, my mom handed him a beater and threw the other one in the sink. The dirty sink.

"Wow, mom. You're a bitch. So are you, Blondie." The two of them had the audacity to laugh together.

"Give the bowl to Ruby and tell her Happy Birthday on your way to your room," my mom ordered. An order from her was final. _God damn it._ She always did this when my friends were over, especially Token. I think she had a crush on him, because whenever he was around, she literally liked to beat me. That's how I depicted the level of likeness between my mom and my friends. The more of an asshole she was, the more she liked them.

As I grabbed the bowl, I asked, "Can I stick my finger in it?" Because it was always best to get her permission first.

"Oh no, sweetheart. Your fingers are dirty."

Now I was just getting pissed. Bitch never let me win. "Can I stick Tweek's finger in it?" The blonde shot his shocked eyes toward me, releasing a choked noise into the room.

"If you must." _That's right, bitch._ It was always best to use the friends your mom liked because she couldn't say no to them. The rest of my rules were survival instructions, things like: Hide in the Crevice of Your Closet When You Eat the Last of the Ice Cream, and Blame it on Ruby—especially when you knew it was your fault—to refrain from getting butchered by your mother.

No joke, I had a guide on how to keep myself alive while my mom was still living. I planned to get it published as a tutorial: _How to Survive Moms for Dummies_. I'd be making bank for that one.

"Come on." I nudged Tweek in the direction of the stairs. Ruby's room was on the way, sadly. I lived too close to her and I didn't like it. Her estrogen levels were always malfunctioning and sometimes I felt like they were coming through the wall that separated our rooms. Every now and then I had nightmares that I'd start ovulating.

The blonde returned the beater before starting up the steps. I was actually proud of how far he'd come. Now he only checked under my bed whenever we entered my room instead of the farfetched I'm-not-even-going-to-walk-by-to-piss mode he'd been in during the first week or so of tutoring.

Since I wasn't a dummie, I offered the bowl to Tweek and told him to stick his finger in it. He was cautious about it, like he didn't know what I was going to do, as if it weren't obvious enough already that I was going to stick his frosting-coated finger in my mouth.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?" He asked as we reached the top of the stairs.

"Because my mom knows when I don't listen to her." The blonde stopped walking and turned around, causing me to stand a step below him. Our eyes were almost level so he was probably just an inch or two shorter than me now.

"So what am I supposed to do with this?" When he raised his finger, I leaned forward and snagged it with my mouth. I locked his digit between my teeth to keep him from jerking it away and ran my tongue across the length of his skin. White chocolate cream cheese frosting had always been my favorite, but only when it was made by my mom, and this tasted fucking delicious. I wanted Tweek to stick his whole hand in it, but my life was on the line, so I just sucked on his finger instead.

A pliant gasp fell from his mouth, and the frosting was all gone but I found his reaction entertaining, so I kept the suction going. My tongue rolled around the curve of his index finger as I bit down just a tiny bit harder before bringing my head back, causing my lips to slide up the tip of his finger, then ultimately leaving completely. When I pulled away I licked my lips, aware that he was staring.

Erratically, he thrust his hand against his chest, hiding his finger from sight. His cheeks were dotted with buds of light pink, like the pastel tint of the icing, and his eyes looked like they didn't know how to focus correctly. I smirked, cocking my head to the side as I watched him. He looked like he'd just woken up, confused and disoriented, moving sluggishly.

As he finally came back to the present, he didn't even spare me a glance before rushing toward my room, stumbling once as he made to turn around. My smirk twisted at the corners at his innocent escape. He really was like a scared baby animal, never knowing where to go or what to do.

I stopped by Ruby's door, set the bowl down, knocked a few times, said Happy Birthday through the door, and finished the distance it took to get to my room. Shutting the door behind me, I found Tweek tugging at his hair in the center of my room. At the sound of my entrance, he turned around on shaky, awkward legs. He looked like his tongue was tied but there was something he wanted to say. So I waited.

It took him a minute but he finally began speaking, voice just as uneven as his form. "I—uhm. I've thought a lot about this, like a whole lot, for a long while—" He was talking fast as though he had to get all of this out under thirty seconds. "A-And I don't want you to take this the wrong way because I know how much you like to think I have a crush on you, and I _don't_, b-but I had an idea of how you could kind of make it up to me for tutoring you. _If you don't I totally understand— _I mean, it's a weird thing to ask of someone but I think you're the exception to that b-because I know you're really open to everything. You say that you don't give a fuck but that's not quite it, I know it isn't. Y-You're just okay with—with _everything_. You're not prejudiced against anything, even if you don't like it, y-you know?"

No. I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to get out of that, but he'd caught my curiosity. I wanted to know what this "idea" was. He continued: "I've never—I mean, I know I can wait and that would be fine but I just—I'm impatient, I guess. I don't know, man. I just really want to...to kiss someone. I feel like something's wrong with me because I'm seventeen and haven't been kissed, not even by a f-fucking girl."

Tweek had just admitted he wanted to kiss me. _No fucking way, dude._ I felt a cheeky smile grow in place on my face because, honestly, this was just too good. He could decline it however much he wanted, but there was no way I was letting this go without getting him to say he had a crush on me first. This was a wonderful moment in my life, it really was, and the blonde must have seen where I was headed because he came forward and shoved his fist into my chest.

"_I don't like you_," he growled. "I just want to kiss you in a completely platonic way."

That was laugh worthy. "I'll kiss you however you want but you have to tell me it's because you have a boner for me."

His reply was sharp. "_I don't_."

"Yeah, that's not going to cut it." Lazily, I leaned forward and met the blonde at eye level. He flinched at the close proximity of my face, eyes momentarily drawn to my mouth. "If it inspires you," I started, words a silent whisper. "I'm really good at it. I'd be a perfect first kiss."

"Stop—" My lips seemed to be too much of a distraction for him. Not to sound conceited, but if somebody else had my lips, I'd be distracted too. They were nice. Full and wet, just sitting there, waiting. They had a lovely shape, too. "Stop trying to trick me." He was whimpering now, voice so shallow, and I knew he no longer held any resolve. He was just trying to be stubborn.

"I'm not tricking you. I'm encouraging you." That was the key word: encourage. I was encouraging the idea of a kiss, dangling the offer out there on a golden chain. My breath was warm as it puffed against his mouth and I watched his lips part, so languidly but further with every breath. It was almost enticing to watch the blonde slowly unfold, and I liked how the tips of his teeth showed, how the color of his lips were a muted shade of pink.

Raising my eyes, I caught his gaze, caught the way he was watching me watch his mouth. In the depths of his green eyes, I noted how dilated his pupils were. My lips stretched into a grueling smirk, and the movement caught his vision. His lashes, thick and dark, hovered above his eyes but I still caught the way they gleamed when I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip, leaving an inviting, wet sheen.

"You're not being fair." His words were nothing more than a frail whisper.

I chuckled at his argument, tilting my head slightly. "How is this not being fair?" I left my question to reverberate in the space between us, capturing his cheeks between my palms. Turning his face up, I dropped my mouth to his chin. Slowly, evenly, my lips found a section of his skin where an open-mouthed kiss was placed, releasing only to place another directly above the last, and with a sweet sound that only came with kisses, I found myself enthralled by the moist residue lingering on his skin from my lips.

His cheeks were heating up in my hands, and the sensation was awesome. I licked my lips and left more drawn out kisses around his mouth but never on his lips, eliciting in how smoothly I could move against his skin when it was slightly damp. Damp with _my_ saliva. I liked the thought of that, and I liked how fast Tweek's breath was coming, how warm it was against my cheek. Glancing up, I watched how every time I applied a light suction, his eyelids fluttered.

"Come on, Tweek," I mumbled into his jaw, trailing my hand down the length of his cheek to rest against his neck. My fingers closed around his nape and there was so much heat coming from that one area that I thought my hand was going to crisp up at an agonizingly pleasurable pace. "You told me you thought my Peruvian genes were sexy." I wasn't sure why my breath was so shallow, but I was sure it had something to do with the salty taste of Tweek's skin as I ran my tongue along the underside of his jaw.

For a brief second I thought back to the day when the blonde and I had licked each other, although it hadn't been like this. God, it hadn't been like this at all. "Just tell me I'm sexy because I know you think I am."

The blonde shuddered, body involuntarily rubbing against mine. I hadn't realized when we'd gotten so close, but being so near to him seemed to irk something inside of me, something that I liked very much. Tweek had to collect his breath before speaking, and even when he did, his voice was still so soft and flimsy. "I-I can't."

But he wanted to. I could feel it, definitely in the way his hands were suddenly fisted in the lapels of my jacket, or maybe they'd always been there. "I'm going to tell you something." My words were a harsh breath against his mouth and strangely, I kind of felt like I was losing some control. "And it's going to be like a trade, alright?" My chest felt like it was breaking, like everything was falling apart, like I couldn't get enough air, because all I was inhaling was Tweek, but the feeling I was enraptured in made me want more, and I wondered why nobody else had ever felt this good. "I want to kiss you" —_so fucking bad right now—_ "but you have to help me out here."

"Fuck." He was panting so loudly, panting because of _me_, that for a second I worried somebody would hear him. "_Craig_," he gasped, lifting to his tip-toes to grab my top lip between his own, and so quickly I had my own encompassing his bottom. "You're so f-fucking sexy," he mumbled breathlessly against my mouth.

My stomach ignited in flames that licked tantalizingly, and before either of us knew it, I had spun us around and was holding Tweek against my door. I dipped low enough and slipped my arms around him that when I came back up, dragging the blonde to the tallest he could go on his toes, our chests collided and friction formed. His breath hitched, just another noise among the numerous others, locking his arms around my neck to pull himself higher. For an instant I thought about picking him up, how he'd wrap his legs around my waist, and even though I wasn't going to do it, the thought alone provided fuel to the heat boiling in my body.

Our mouths squelched and produced enough spit to make our kisses slick. Between every touch of our mouths Tweek was panting, and I wanted to go mad because I wasn't sure whether I wanted to kiss him more or just listen to his sounds. It was like this wasn't enough, like I needed more, but that was ridiculous. I had never needed anything.

One of my arms coiled around his slender waist, hugging his body to mine. Maybe it was because we were still wearing our jackets, but the heat permeating from his body made my senses sizzle. Unconsciously, my fingers tightened around his hip. I felt his bone beneath my fingers and I scratched my nails across it. Tweek turned his head away, releasing a choked sigh. My vision was fogged, but I could see his mouth clearly enough. Some foreign pull was attracting me to that mouth, telling me that I liked it, that inside was even better.

I leaned down and swept my tongue between the seam of his swollen lips. An immediate heat engulfed my wet, sensitive skin, triggering the roaring fire in the pit of my stomach. When I slid against Tweek's tongue, it felt like Kenny's always did—slippery and intriguing—but the blonde's mouth was excruciatingly warm and as his tongue rolled with mine, I felt disconnected from Kenny. There was something about Tweek's tongue, the way its slickened texture rubbed so shyly against mine and how sugary he tasted, something that I was very fond of.

The wall separating Ruby's room from mine quaked under her vicious pounding. "Craig! Mom said it was time to fucking go like five fucking minutes ago!"

Tweek flinched, breaking away from me with a dangerous snap. "Holy _fuck_. I-I shouldn't go to the dinner. I shouldn't go. I-I can't go." His mouth was swollen, lips glistening with spit that belonged to both of us. I couldn't stop staring and when the blonde noticed this, his cheeks turned rosier.

"I think you should." My voice came out as a dark, husky tone. I hadn't ever heard myself speak like that before.

The blonde froze, watching my lips with his big doe eyes. They were clouded over, green color all fogged up. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why? You gunna jump me?" I teased.

"Maybe." He was completely serious.

My mouth twitched and I felt a crooked smirk contort my features. "Then why don't you just tell me when you think that's going to happen and we'll take a little trip to the bathroom so I can fix it." I knew how that must have sounded. But I wanted it to be just so, because Tweek's reaction was well worth it.

His eyes half-lidded and his body sagged forward, arms tightening around my neck. "O-Okay. We can do that."


	10. Chapter 10

(: You guys are just wonderful.

Anonymous - *insert so many thanks for reading and reviewing here*

* * *

><p>"Jesus, Craig. What took you boys so long?" My mom inquired as Tweek and I finally made it downstairs.<p>

My automatic reply was "making out" to which the blonde, quivering behind me like a guilty suspect, stabbed me sharply in the back. I kept a straight face throughout his attack so as not to alert my inspecting parents that my answer had actually been true. Tweek obviously didn't know how to give a thorough lie—or in this case a truth disguised as a lie—because you never _responded_, in any way, during the performance of your dirty tale.

"You really need to stop gaying up all your friends," Ruby shot. I flipped her off for that one. "He's a cute one, too. That's a shame." She removed herself from the couch and walked, although to me it looked more like a gorillaesque-humpbacked-trudge, until she placed herself in front of Tweek. "Hi, I'm Ruby."

The blonde was a flustered mess, all tongue-tied and wide-eyed, cheeks blossoming under her compliment that he was cute. I found it sad that Tweek was probably only an inch or two taller than her since I had just kissed that midget. No wonder why she liked him. They were relatively similar: basically the same height, both skinny little things, blonde hair. Ruby's was more strawberry toned, though, and thankfully Tweek's facial features completely differed from my little sister's otherwise I would've felt like I'd been kissing her and that just made me want to throw up and die a couple of times.

Ruby's face was like your regular everyday shithead: normal eyes of common blue, ordinary nose, standard eyebrows, and typical everything else. Except her lips. I had given them to her and she had better be goddamn proud of those lovely, plump, beautiful babies. Not that she could actually inherit them from me since that was mom's doing, but I still took credit in my head because they'd been mine first.

Tweek's features were considerably more doll-like and possibly even a notch farther in femininity, all dark lashes and doe eyes with a round mouth. And actually—now that I was paying attention—his eyes weren't just green like the customary shade you always thought of when you heard the word. They were like a tinted pastel green or mint green. They were like my eyes that were a crystallized shade of blue, except crystallized green. I liked that: crystallized green. They looked like Red's, and so suddenly I remembered why her's had appeared so familiar that day. The day I'd gone in with Token and Clyde. I must've been subconsciously thinking about Tweek.

"Hi," the blonde murmured. "I-I'm Tweek." He quickly glanced up at me as if he needed to be told that what he'd said was fine, but not before darting past my lips first. I smirked, scoffing to let him know I'd seen the pattern of his gaze.

"He doesn't like you," I told Ruby. "He thinks you're an ugly fuck and doesn't want you to talk to him."

"I don't think that!" The blonde screamed, slamming his fist straight into my stomach. My breath stuck in my throat, and I was momentarily stunned. A striking pain ebbed away at the flesh beneath Tweek's fisted knuckles, throbbing from his vicious assault.

In the next second I had him in a head lock. He cried out and fought to push me away but there was no way under any circumstance in which that would happen. Dragging him sideways, I grabbed a handful of his hair, strangely soft locks for looking so erratic all the time, and gently knocked his head repeatedly against the wall.

After the first few hits, he realized that I wasn't really out to hurt him, causing him to giggle. There was no longer any motivation to fuel his arms so they went limp.

"Alright, stop fucking around, Craig. Let's get out of here." The command came from my dad. I wished I could provide people with a guide on how to survive him, but honestly, it was every man for himself with that guy.

So I stopped and left Tweek to figure out how to rearrange his messy locks himself. Alright, I flicked the piece hanging by his nose but that was it. "You lead the way, boss."

"How many times have I told you not to be a smart ass on your sister's birthday?" Ruby stuck her tongue out at me like it was some sly move that damaged my ego. Bitch didn't realize that it only hurt her own. Nobody stuck their tongue out anymore unless it was to stick it between their fingers in an extremely vulgar proposal.

"I don't know. How many times have I told you not to be a bastard every single day of my life?" In unison we flipped each other off. Honestly, argumentation was the best way to bond with your family. Mine did it every chance we got and we loved each other even more after every fight. It was a bond of hatred so blatant that we depended on each other for fuel and stoked whosever rage needed stoking.

"How about you drive us, Craig?" My mom asked, pulling my dad toward the front door by his bicep. His large, ginger haired bicep.

"I'm not riding passenger while he's driving. That kids a lunatic, Fiona."

As Ruby followed and I after her, Tweek tugged on the back of my jacket. "Am I going to die?" He asked, most likely regarding the identical attitude of my father and I.

"The only person you have to worry about is Clyde." The blonde looked confused. "He's going to be pissed when he finds out that you went to Ruby's birthday dinner and he didn't." His features fell, big eyes dropping at the corners. I had never seen such a realistic puppy dog face. Every time Clyde took a crack at it, he just looked like a fat, constipated pigeon. Even the blonde's lips were downcast, bottom lip pouting so, so slightly.

I had absolutely no reason as to why I did it—my body was already moving before my brain could decipher the situation—but without any type of warning, I was leaning down and pressing a simple kiss to Tweek's lips. As I pulled away, I felt the delicate pressure he applied back.

"I forgot to ask." My voice was raspy again. All because of one stupid kiss. "How does it feels to be a 'normal' person?" Since the way he'd described it had made it sound like being un-kissed was comparable to some strange deformity.

Tweek blushed, answering quietly. "It's good. I-I like it." Before quickly adding, "I should've believed you when you said you were a good kisser."

I think my lip twitched. "You didn't believe me?"

"No?" He laughed modestly, shying away from me. I would've pounced on him and really shoved his head against the wall, except my dad was yelling at us to hurry our asses up. So I pushed him in the direction of the door instead.

The blonde stumbled down the hallway and there was no holding back my laughter when he ran right into my dad's chest. One startled look at the man's six-foot-four stature and Tweek was racing out into the freezing weather, unconcerned that it was ice cold. He sidled up to my side as I followed him out, whispering, "You look nothing like him."

I laughed again, grabbed him by the shoulder, and tucked him into the backseat of my mom's car next to Ruby. She smiled at him, always one to have a crush on my friends. He told her Happy Birthday and she blushed. It was ugly. So I told her to stop interacting with him, and that's how the car ride went. I watched her and every time her head turned even fractionally in our direction, I would reach out and slap her in the face.

My plan backfired when right before we entered the restaurant plaza marking our destination, though, when Tweek scolded me with a "Stop interacting with your sister," and slapped me in the face. My dad laughed, and everyone laughed, and I guessed it was really funny because it was hard to make my dad laugh to the point that his belly jiggled—and honest to god, you could tell when somebody did the belly jiggle laugh because the undulations of their stomach made them hold onto it and he was definitely holding it. Grasping at it, even.

The sting from Tweek's hand hurt twice as bad when the cold hit my skin as we exited the car. I locked the blonde in another headlock, this time giving him a noogie. He didn't like it, spewing angry fists at my chest as though that would get me to stop, but I didn't until my revengeful side felt satisfied and that was when he started calling out apologies. "_Craig_," he whimpered, holding his hands to his head when I retracted my knuckles. He kept his face against my chest, muttering unintelligible words under his breath.

"Suck it up," I ordered, kissing the fingers drawn against his scalp to protect it. I could be so cute sometimes. No wonder Kenny and Clyde went after girls—or in Kenny's case both genders—all the time; it was fun to tease them. Tweek almost made it _too_ easy. I could say anything—no. All I had to do was _look_ at him a certain way and he'd fluster up like the Guinness World Record holder of _Sexiest Penis_ was jacking off right in front of him. But actually, I had an amazing penis so it was basically like I was jacking off in front of him.

_That's awkward._

"Hurry the fuck up, Craig. I'm hungry," Ruby grunted.

"No, you're just a fatass."

She and my parents were collected on the walkway that led into the Country Kitchen Buffet, the one restaurant that I hated because it was always filled with old people.

Its elongated brick structure and spacious windows were just a facade to conceal the ancient citizens filling its interior because I knew for a fact that they seated anyone younger than thirty in the window booths to keep up a lively appearance. Their food was mediocre, a cacophony of different styles but none that they specialized in, and their employees had a tendency to get in the way with their carts as they went around to pick up discarded dirty dishes.

No joke, they'd bend down to assemble the trash and silverware and it'd just be straight up ass in my face. Clyde had a picture of me pretending to kiss one lucky butt from last year. I'd had an honest talk with the manager just to get a refund. I'd gotten thirteen bucks back and it'd been a good day.

After nudging Tweek in my family's direction, we headed inside. God, I loved the fresh smell of decay and adult diapers. Ruby commented that it smelled delicious to which I couldn't help but chuckle. I received the finger from all of them except Tweek. Thankfully he hadn't caught onto the Tucker ritual. Somebody made a comment? Flip them off. Somebody laughed? Flip them off. Somebody breathed? Flip them off. Or maybe he had and just knew how to desist the lovely middle finger's devious temptation.

"What are you going to get?" I asked the blonde, leaning sluggishly against the thin plate of wall secluding the actual buffet area from the pay desk. "I suggest to completely avoid the salad bar. That shit has been sitting there all day and there's bugs in the tomatoes."

"That only happened _once_, Craig," my mom reminded, her tone warningly sour. She didn't want me to ruin Ruby's birthday dinner. Guess who gave a fuck.

"It was a traumatic experience. Innocently, I provided myself with a well dressed salad only to witness a mealworm hastily escape through the hole in my tomato. Something like that stays with you for life, mom. You wouldn't understand. That fork wasn't going into _your_ mouth."

Tweek looked utterly terrified at the incident that had given birth to my recommendation. His head swiveled around, back and forth, as though he was searching for an escape route. Eerily slow, I picked my body away from its slouch and bent down to stare the blonde directly in the eye. He froze, long lashes brushing the bone of his brow they were opened so wide. Our gazes locked but I bolted and chained them just to make sure he wouldn't flake out.

Quietly, I hummed, "Don't be a mealworm, Tweek." If I had to sit through this dinner, then so did he. When he gulped, visibly shaken, I asked again, "So, what are you going to get?" and straightened myself out to full height. Being short just fucking sucked, even if it was temporary.

"I-I don't know. _Nghh—_shit. Maybe j-just some soup o-or fruit. Sweet Jesus, I don't want there to be a fucking _insect_ in my food, dude!" He moved to massage his temples between slender fingers.

"What are you? A baby? You need something with substance." As we played follow-the-leader out into the food filled field of numerous heated dinner-filled contraptions, I wrapped my index finger and thumb around Tweek's slim wrist before holding it up to shake it around. His hand flopped back and fourth for a second before he snatched his limb away. "You're flimsy, like a pancake."

"I'm not that skinny!"

"I bet you I can fit both of my hands around one of your thighs and my fingers will overlap."

"I'm a _guy_. It's called a fast metabolism." He glared at the skepticism clearly written quite bluntly on my face.

"Yeah, I've got one too but I still weight more than a hundred pounds."

"Dude, you're a tall fuck! And I weigh more than that."

"_Fact: _I'm a tall, sexy fuck."

Tweek ripped a piece of silverware from one of the many racks and stood there, fuming, pointing a fork at me. "Do not start making _The Office_ references at me."

He watched _The Office_? Damn.

I knew in that moment that we were going to create the ultimate friendship.

After Tweek decided to stop bitching, although he continued to murmur to himself about his weight (and I wasn't going to tell him this because it was entertaining to see him so riled up, but I honestly didn't think he was too skinny or creepily thin or anything like that because he was tiny in the healthy way that a kid his age and height should be—just _maybe_ a little smaller than regular but nobody gave a shit) and gathered our food, we met back up and sat at whichever table was closest because the Tuckers never gave a fuck.

My dad should have just stayed in the food hall and ate as he pleased. That's how much crap he'd piled onto his plates, and all of it varied: chicken wings, steak, lasagna, a burrito, corn dogs, I-don't-even-know-what-the-hell-else. Everything was mashed together like the epitome of a melting pot. Thankfully the women of my family were a little more recluse when it came to their dinner, although it was vital to understand that they still had a ton of random findings. It was just piled a little less high.

True to his word, Tweek had managed to supply himself with the least amount of grub, and none of it was meant to actually settle in his stomach. The stuff he'd grabbed would enter his mouth and then just disappear. I looked like the fat fuck out of the bunch. All I had in front of me was a bowl of whipped cream. But I was an artful mastermind and hidden beneath the avalanche of fluff was a gargantuan slice of strawberry cheesecake. I was saving that godly beast for last, though, because for the moment I was working on a white cherry Icee.

To be courteous, my dad tried to start a conversation. "Hey, kid. What's your name? Twerk? Is that all you got was soup?" I personally leaned over and laughed in the blonde's face for that one. It was for reasons like that why I still loved the giant ginger sitting across the table from me. He always got names wrong.

"Don't feel too special," I informed the blushing blonde. "He calls me Chris from time to time."

"What? Is that not his name?"

"I-It's Tweek." Then the blonde seemed to rethink his answer. "S-sir."

"What the hell." The burly man threw up his hands and slammed them down on the table. Tweek cried out and half tumbled from his seat. The neighboring tables glanced about nervously. "Tweek. Twerk. Twerking Tweek. Same fucking thing."

"Dad," Ruby tried, willing him to stop while he was ahead.

He ignored her. "You're skin and bones, boy. Why not get a real man's meal?"

Maybe because he was about as gay as they came, besides Butters, and was pretty much only half a man. He couldn't handle a "real man's meal," I was sure.

Tweek laughed nervously. "O-oh, I'm a vegetarian."

I hadn't known that about him. "How long?" Ruby asked, annoyingly curious.

"Almost five years."

She was all starry eyed, staring at the blonde like he was the meal she'd been waiting all day for. All _year _for since we only came here for her birthday. "That's really cool! Do you have to take iron supplements and stuff like that?"

Tweek nodded, trying to place his eyes anywhere but on the four faces watching him. "My best friend, he's a vegan, so whenever I spend the night at his house, I lose like five pounds because all I eat is lettuce. Literally." The girls laughed to humor his anecdote. "I'm dead serious." He smiled bashfully around the table before dropping his eyes to the hands in his lap. I could've done something really mean and really teasing, but I wasn't going to, so I ripped my eyes away from those hands.

"Sweetheart." I glanced up only to find that my mom wasn't directing the nickname at me like she usually did. I was sweetheart, Ruby was darling, and my dad was honey on the rare occasion she felt like being a kind, loving wife and mother. No, she had just referred to _Tweek_ as her sweetheart, something she _never_ did to _any_ of my friends. Not even Token.

Once she'd called Kenny an ignorant bastard, but I didn't think that counted.

My eyes passed over the blonde, who had no idea he'd been called upon. I bumped his elbow with mine. His gaze veered upward, surprised, immediately falling on my mom. She blinked and then he blinked, both deafeningly quiet. "W-what?" He sounded like he was questioning the name rather than why she'd requested his attention in the first place.

"Why don't you share the news about Craig's math final?"

"O-oh." The blonde's eyes flickered between my delicately physiqued mom to my burly, Spartan of a dad. Suddenly, he didn't seem as excited about bragging to him like he had earlier. A storm cloud of nerves was brewing in his stomach and I thought it wise that he hadn't eaten anything with a satiable form, because if he had, I was sure he'd throw it up. "That's not really necessary." The words were rushed, stapled close together.

"Math final?" My dad's voice was gruff with the hint of a threat. He caught me under his penetrative stare. It weighed down on me like I was too far under water, the pressure about to make my ears pop. "I swear to God, Craig, if you failed, your mother and I aren't paying for your fucking summer school."

"Yeah, because my job doesn't pay me so I wouldn't be able to do it myself." My response was automatic, not thought out properly, and definitely made it sound like I had failed. My ears weren't the only thing about to pop.

"_Craigifer—_"

Tweek's breath caught. "He passed! God, Jesus, he passed!"

The man settled back into his chair, resuming his meal as though he hadn't been about ready to body slam me from across the table. The blonde looked visibly shaken, on edge in his own seat, and it didn't look like he was about to mention the fact that he was the reason behind my miraculous trigonometric come back. Obviously he couldn't tell that my dad was actually a giant softy, which was disappointing because even _Clyde_ saw through his vigorously harsh exterior. The two wrestled and ate ice cream together _out of the same carton_. So clearly Mr. Tucker wasn't some vigilante that killed men as a guilty pleasure, and I was sure that that was exactly what Tweek's imaginative mind was supplying him with.

Part of me almost wanted to speak up on his behalf, but if there was one thing my dad hated, it was a pussy. That was something the two of us had in common, although somehow Tweek had dodged my pussy radar and I wasn't quite sure how that had happened because he was about the biggest blip ever. "He's not finished yet." The blonde whipped his head around to gawk at me. He honestly just didn't know when to put a cap on his emotions. He wore them so openly it was horrifyingly easy to depict what he felt.

I stared at him blankly, matching his own owlish gaze until the nervous activity in his stomach washed over him completely and his cheeks burst with color. Just then I noticed how the shade of his eyes offset the pink hue of his blush, how each stood out because they were complimentary.

He diverted his face elsewhere, choosing to focus on his soup of broth and vegetables. Voice just a hint of sound, he threw out, "I'm Craig's tutor."

Should he have phrased it in past tense? But it wasn't like I still needed help. Tweek the Tutor was over, at least until next year. Even so, I had only needed help because I'd gotten so far behind. If I stayed up on my work this next semester then his tutoring wouldn't be needed.

"A little miracle worker, huh?" I think Tweek took my dad's words as a compliment by the way his blush dotted across his nose.

I wanted to tease him more, see that rosy complexion tint a tone darker. "He's my good luck charm," I added.

My taunt was a success.

* * *

><p>When we got home, Ruby's cake was divvied out without the burden of that stupid birthday song. If it was requested then we'd bring up a Youtube video of some other embarrassment of a family singing its horribly noted tune. Tweek and I worked our way back into my bedroom. He was iffy at first, scared he'd splat cake all over my spotless floor or clean bedspread, but I spared him a few choice words about not giving fuck and swayed his decision.<p>

After taking a seat on my bed, I fell ill to my intense _need_ for scrumptious, homemade, white chocolate cream cheese frosted cake and took a bite. The glorifying second when that forkful entered my mouth and landed on my taste buds—_good God. _My back fell against the mattress and I let slip a syrupy moan that drizzled like a steady stream of honey from between my lips. _This is what Cartman must feel like every time he eats anything._

If that was the case, then his absurd eating habits were excused and he was no longer a fatass. Not that he was anymore these days. Age and football had done him some good, in all places except personality, but that was just the opinion of a boring asexual so you could bet that the differences between young Cartman and older Cartman were actually much more substantial. I just couldn't stand the guy whether his appearance had changed for the better or not.

"I wish sex felt like this."

I'd meant for the statement to be careless, something of little importance, but the way it caused Tweek to cough abruptly told me otherwise.

"Y-you're not a" —those cheeks of his lit up vibrantly— "a virgin?"

I laughed, because that was seriously funny, and almost asked "did you think I was?" except my transmission was interrupted by an even better idea. "Did you want me to be?"

"_Sweet Jesus!_" He jumped from my bed and hurriedly set his plate down on the glass table along with all my other nick-knacks. "No, God—no. I just wasn't expecting to hear that! I don't even know what I was expecting, okay, man? You—_who?_" He came back to my bed, avoiding my eye. His fingers were clasped tightly together in his lap, probably to keep from twitching.

Was the topic of sex really that nerve-wracking for him? At least he knew how to be nosy.

"Red."

And then I thought about how that sounded. "It was just one time a while ago, not quite a year yet." And then I decided to tell him the whole story because it was humorous and I hadn't told anybody yet, so I wanted to know if it was as good a laugh to another as it was for me. "Token threw a party so Red and I got plastered. She's my best friend; it was just kind of bound to happen. Both of us were virgins and we thought it'd be fun. It wasn't. I was half hard the entire time because I couldn't get it up and we couldn't stop laughing because we pretended to be beached whales through half of it. We even made whale calls to each other."

Tweek's tension seemed to ease as my tale went along, and by the end of it, he was smiling at me weirdly, like he was fond of it—or fond of _me_. "Did you use a condom?"

"Of course not. Condoms are for pussies. Red's actually eight months pregnant." To keep the blonde from blanching for too long, I added, "What kind of question was that? Seriously? Obviously we used one. Even though we didn't need to because I never came. Red wont let me live it down, either."

"Don't fuck with me like that!" Tweek bunched up his fists and threw one at me. I couldn't dodge it very well since there was cake resting on my chest, so I decided to man up and absorb his hit as it rammed directly into the side of my ribcage. Sometimes I didn't have the best ideas ever. His little knuckles _hurt_, even through two layers of clothing.

"Red's as tiny as you are, retard. Do you even know what a pregnant woman looks like?" The blonde frowned at my ridicule, falling over to lay facing me. Swiping my finger through the frosting of the cake, I stuck the covered digit in my mouth and spoke around it. "You're lucky I'm not going to slam this piece of cake into your face for hitting me."

He pouted, and I caught the expression out of the corner of my eye. His jutted bottom lip glistened with a thin sheen of saliva, seeming to attract my gaze.

And then it was like a compulsion, a reaction I just couldn't seem to stop. My finger dipped back into the frosting, I knocked the plate off my chest (gambling that its fall would land up-right) and gently covered his slightly fuller lip with the sweet substance. He watched diligently as the pink cream that was almost identical to the pale color of his mouth coated his skin. A seam formed and a short rasp of hot breath melted the structure of icing against the tip of my finger. I smirked because he looked kind of funny, like he'd clumped on some lipstick, and leaned forward.

His lip slid between mine and I sucked tenderly at the sugary flavor, drawing it from his skin, sucked on the heat that was permeating from his mouth. He tickled my jawline gingerly, sweeping up to the strands of my hair where he twisted the locks between his fingers. The pressure of his mouth intensified as the blonde tilted his head, and I followed his movement, wondering where he was trying to go.

Closer. He wanted to be closer, trying to inch toward my body without breaking the kiss. A breathless laugh leaked through my lips, quick spurts of warmth that fluttered against his mouth. I pulled back by just a miniscule amount of space, very much liking the way his lips instantly sought mine, softly brushing and timidly kissing. He was shy, desperately attempting to fight his embarrassment by trusting his intuition to follow my beckoning mouth. Something about that, that it was intuition to kiss me, it made my head swirl.

Tweek made a noise, like a half squeak, when I backtracked again just so I could watch him pursue me. "_Craig_." He opened his eyes. Half mast, they stared up at me from beneath dark lashes. I met his gaze, observing the luminous color of his eyes as it was eaten up by his obsidian pupils. His stare bounced from my eyes to my lips, lingering there, before flickering back up. I reciprocated, another compulsion of mine, and found a strange desire form in the pit of my stomach when his mouth twitched into the hint of a smile. My eyelids felt heavy under the foreign emotion, a feeling that I had no control over, but I didn't want to close them.

Instead, I was ensnared by the velvety tip of the blonde's tongue. It traced the innermost edge of his bottom lip, licking an invigoratingly slow line, until he bit delicately against the same wet trail he'd just created. His teeth snagged the skin, lightly abusing it, and when it slid free, I blew softly at the moisture sticking to his lips. An audible hitch caught his breath, causing his mouth to open further in a quiet gasp.

One of my hands found his waist, slipping up the curve of his torso and around his back. When I found the hood of his jacket, I bunched it up in my grasp and tugged lightly. It grew pliant to my instruction and bared the back of Tweek's neck. I dipped my fingers against his exposed skin, incredibly warm against my own, threading my digits through the tendrils of his fair hair. His breath picked up, heated puffs from the two of ours mixing in the short space between our mouths. His fingers slid behind my ears, curling around the roots of my hair. A sigh fell from my mouth at the gentle pressure of his fingertips dragging against my scalp.

Massaging the nape of his neck, Tweek gave way to my actions, soaking up the attention. His eyes were closed, nose just barely brushing mine, cheeks pigmented. He looked soft and fragile, cozy in the close proximity of my body, but I didn't want to kiss him softly or like he was fragile. I suddenly wanted to kiss him the way Kenny did to me. I wanted to see the way you were supposed to react when someone attacked you with their mouth, just to see how far in the wrong I was and how I did.

The feathered locks on the back of his head were knotted in my grip as I used my hold on him to thrust him toward me. My chest knocked against his in the collision and I assaulted his lips, using my teeth to nip at his bottom before sucking on it to achieve the kiss. Tweek gasped, but I didn't use the easy entry to my advantage like he wanted me to. I continued to play with the nibbling on his sensitive, pale pink skin, feeling for the moment when his arms tangled around my shoulders, hands lost in my hair, lips bruised.

With my free hand, I cupped his jaw, pressing my thumb against his chin in a silent command. Our mouths opened in unison, tongues, lavished in saliva, melding together. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, tilting my face against his to conceive a seamless kiss. The blonde inhaled deeply through his nose, tightening his fingers in my hair, while I felt the hot, moist inside of his mouth. My thumb rubbed senseless circles against his cheekbone as my palm caressed his cheek.

Tweek's chest moved erratically against mine when I retracted my tongue and mouth. He made to breath and gasp. He didn't let me go far before he pulled me back in, kissing me greedily. Wet, squelching sounds and breathless pants filled my room as the blonde captured my mouth continuously, sucking on my lips and attracting my tongue. It was this, the constant reoccurring of so many tempting kisses, that fogged my brain and left no room for anything more than a mindless inferno that sent my body temperature skyrocketing.

Maybe it was my jacket. Maybe it needed to come off. I didn't think it was just the jacket, though, when the blonde suddenly had the same idea. His lithe fingers had eradicated from my hair and were now working on the zipper of my coat, and for some reason, the sound of its undoing _really_ turned me on.

My arms quickly maneuvered out of the sleeves as Tweek ushered them down to help. His palm licked like fire down the contour of my arm, and when the jacket was off, his hand skimmed back up along my skin and his fingers ducked under the sleeve of my shirt, hugging my bicep and the muscle contained within it. I liked how his touch wasn't timid. I liked how I couldn't think straight under the smog in my head. I liked how all I could taste and smell was coffee even though I hated coffee. I liked all of these things that I never even noticed before with anyone else.

The knock on my door jarred Tweek out of our stupor. He screamed, wrenching himself away from me and to the other side of my bed, where he covered his mouth with his hands and gaped at me with terrified eyes. Groaning, I rubbed mine with a hand and settled back into my pillows. The knock came again.

"Doors fucking open, retard!" As specified, Ruby opened it and peeked inside. "Get the fuck out, you little troll."

"You're an ass, you know that? Stop being a bitch, it's not like you're doing anything anyways."

"We were before you came in," I stated. Tweek lashed out and smacked me in the stomach with a pillow. Ruby rolled her eyes and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "Pretty sure I didn't give you permission to cross the threshold."

"Shut up. I need help on who else should come to my party."

"Nobody. Simple as that." I didn't want to help my little sister invite other little sisters as annoying as her into our house for her lame little party of which I'd been tricked into getting alcohol for. What I _did _want to do was kiss Tweek again, because I could feel myself cooling down and I didn't like that.

"Alright, so." She sat on the edge of my bed. "I'm not sure if I should invite Sydney because her and Ericka don't get along but Ericka has to go otherwise she'll throw a tantrum and she's fun to hang out with when she's with June and June's close friend, who's also my friend, her name's Dyllin, she wants Sydney to go so that Sydney can return her t-shirt or something, and I like Sydney so it'd be cool if she came but I don't want anyone to get pissy or start a fight, you know?"

_Thanks, Rubes._ I was definitely cooled down completely after that complete load of bullshit. "Don't invite Sydney, Ericka, June, or Dyllin."

"Craig, I'm being serious."

"So am I." I passed a glance toward Tweek who was just sitting there, utterly embarrassed. "I should probably get you home." The blonde just nodded, falling peacefully into my excuse to get rid of Ruby's little girl issues. "Sucks, Rubes. Guess you'll have to figure things out on your own. Go ask dad or something."

As she got up to leave, angrily so, she shot back, "I did, and he said to see you. Thanks, jerk." She slammed the door and that would've been the perfect cue to resume making out with Tweek, except things didn't quite work out that way. It was more like he shakily got up from my bed and tried to make a safe getaway, but I wasn't about to let him be a pansy ass over a stupid kiss. It'd been his idea anyway. He needed to own up to it.

Before he reached my door, I beat him to it, laying a hand flat against its surface to keep it from budging. The blonde still tried to wiggle the handle, but to no avail. When he realized that there was no way out, he stopped struggling and stood there, staring hard at the floor.

Based on his reaction, I decided I'd make this easy for him. "Nobody will suspect anything if you'd stop being so obvious about it."

I took my hand off the door and watched him fling himself through the doorway, entirely ignoring my instruction.

* * *

><p>Never in my entire life did I think that that kiss alone was going to govern my entire winter break.<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

**100th Review Contest and Prize**- Whoever is my hundredth reviewer will get two things: 1) Complete control over a chapter in Automaton. 2) A one-shot of their choice, any pairing. Both will be _your_ ideas, but for number 1, I'd like for you to keep in mind that Automaton has a set schedule or blueprint that I've been going by, so if you ask for anything like sex, blow job, whatever, you name it, then your chapter will not appear until later, but I will still do it! (:

Happy Halloween you guys! I stayed up till midnight to give this to you guys since I wont be home at all (trick-or-treating, bitches) so you guys better be thankful. (:

* * *

><p><em>I miss you ):<em>

I was really pissed off when I woke up to that text message. Kenny's always had an estrange sense of time when it came to getting a hold of me. He'd only ever call when I was in the middle of a movie, only ever text when I was trying to get some sleep, and effectively bother the hell out of me with both of those circumstances.

Like an ogre, because I was grouchy from loss of sleep, I snatched my phone from where it had buzzed against my head just in time to receive another message: _I miss you, Butters misses you, we all miss you, so we're on our way to your house right now. I hope the door's open, otherwise Butters is crawling through the window again. _In disgust, I turned off my phone and threw it across my room.

I wasn't sure if I actually fell back asleep, or maybe I just started dozing, and it was impossible to tell how much time had passed, but there went the creak in my door whenever someone tried to open it as slowly as possible. Whoever it was didn't turn my lights on, allowing me a few more peaceful moments of dire placidity, although they _did_ crawl onto my bed and scooch up close to my back.

An arm wrapped around my chest, cuddling me against their body. My first thought was the obvious: Kenny. But after comparing the blonde's physique to this one, I didn't think that my assumption was very correct.

"Hey, cutie-pie," they whispered against the shell of my ear. Kenny's inane snicker was heard beyond the quiet voice, further destroying my hopeless guess. If it wasn't the blonde, and I knew it wasn't Clyde or Token, and _definitely_ not Butters- who the hell was sweet talking me in my own bed?

Craning my neck around, I came face to face with Stan Marsh.

"God damn it." I growled, pushing his ugly ass mug away from me. He was laughing as he rolled away, and I was pretty sure he and Kenny high fived each other. "You're not allowed in my house. Get out."

"Why's that, cutie-pie?" Great. The nickname was going to stick.

"Because you're gay for your best friend." I tossed a pillow over my face when the lights came on.

"Come on, Craig." It was Kenny's voice now. "Your sister invited us in so it's time to get up." There was a rustling commotion, like maybe somebody had grabbed my bedsheets.

"Trust me, you don't want to do that," I warned. "Butters will lose all of his innocence. I'm completely naked right now."

"O-oh boy," Butters's stutter came from the doorway. "It's alright, Craig. I-I can cover my eyes."

I guessed that's what he did too, because in the next moment, I had no sheets covering my body. My friends were huge pricks sometimes. And Marsh wasn't even a friend or anything related to that word including: pal, buddy, bro, acquaintance, homie, person of insubstantial importance. He was just _there_ and he fucking sucked and now he's seen me naked.

"Since when do you have fucking dimples on your ass cheeks?" Kenny exclaimed, laughing hysterically at my _adorable_ butt dimples. I didn't even bother saying 'my whole life' because skin indentions didn't just pop up out of nowhere. Unfortunately. If they did I would've kept them a secret from my mom. She's been obsessed with them since I was born and instead of pinching my facial cheeks, she liked to pinch my ass, because 'I just didn't have dimples on my face'. Supposedly it just wasn't as cute. "I'm taking a picture. Don't move."

"Send it to Clyde and tell him I'm waiting."

There was the chirping click from the blonde's phone and then, "Will do, bro. Now put some clothes on before Butters loses control and checks out your dick. I know he wants to."

"K-Kenny!" Butters cried, and as I lugged myself out of bed I saw that he was tucked in the corner of my room with his hands over his eyes. "Oh gosh, Craig. I-I don't know what he's talkin' 'bout."

"It's cool Butters. You can have special permission to look at my dick whenever you want. Maybe we can exchange nudes later," I assured idly, sifting through the clothes in my closet for something to wear. Pulling out a pair of cut offs, I slipped them on, deciding that it was better to go commando today since this particular pair was a bit tighter than my others.

The dainty blonde giggled bashfully, yet he kept his eyes covered in refusal toward my scantily clad offer. Now that I was actually looking at him I noticed that something was slightly askew, but I couldn't pinpoint what exactly that something was. Giving him a once over as I put on a random shirt and jacket, I inspected his slight frame. He was wrapped up in a hooded sweater that was too big, presumably Kenny's, and a scarf that reminded me of Tweek because of the funny, little tendrils of fabric hanging from it's frayed edges. Jeans and boots covered his legs to block out the worst of the snow outside.

None of those were the particular detail that nagged in my storage of memories, though. He'd changed an aspect of himself, yet all of him was the same. Same old sweet Butters, same old feathered mohawk, slightly disarrayed as though he'd been forced to wake up and head out with no warning whatsoever. Which was ironic since I was in the same position, and I was sure that if I looked closely at Marsh, I'd see his hair in the same mussed fashion. I wasn't going to look at him for longer than necessary, though. So I'd just assume we had all been rudely snatched from our beds by Kenny.

"You can look now." Butters dropped his hands, smiling up at me with that pure expression he always had. It made me want to protect him, especially from Kenny. "You look different today." His clear blue eyes brightened considerably, hinting that I was right in thinking something had changed.

"We trimmed up his sides a bit yesterday," Kenny explained. "His mohawk was losing its shape. Actually, it was Tweek who did it."

That clarified everything. The profiles of the small blonde's head were shorn, accentuating the bright tufts of hair protruding in a perfect line down the center of his skull. "Tweek? With a razor? Pics or it didn't happen." I ran my hand through his messy locks, kicking them up until they stood on end. "Looks good," I complimented.

Butters blushed, "Well gee, C-Craig, that's mighty nice coming from you." This kid was just too cute for his own good. It would destroy him when the wrong person got a hold of him and that was a shame. Sometimes the most terrible things happened to the most sensible people. I wondered whether or not Kenny would play the terrible one. Or perhaps- I smirked down at the delicate boy, it would be the other way around.

"Are you going to tell me that I look good, too?" Stan Marsh jeered, half uninterested as the rest of him was occupied by my guinea pig. He knelt before a section of Stripe's cage, watching the furry critter crawl through one of his spiraled tunnels.

I felt an uncharacteristic twang of fury rise from the pit of my stomach that I only ever seemed to get when someone I didn't like tried to fuck with my animal. "No, you're the ugliest piece of shit I've ever seen and I swear to God if you touch Stripe I'll rip your testicles off and sleep with them underneath my pillow every single night for the rest of my life."

"Alright, I get it." Marsh held his hands up in mock surrender, removing himself from my floor. "No need to get pissy."

Kenny threw his arm across his friend's shoulders, reeling him into a protective hold. As though I was a book and he was my foot note, he informed, "Craig's like a crazy boyfriend when it comes to his guinea pig."

"What are you going to do when Stripe finds a girlfriend?"

"Don't use his name so casually, Marsh. You guys aren't friends." The black haired teen held his palms out in disbelief, mumbling 'are you serious?' beneath his breath. "I actually tried to talk Tweek into getting a little girl so that Stripe and her could have babies but he wasn't too keen on the idea."

"Tweek's terrified of animals," Butters stated.

"No shit. I think he threw up a little when I forced him to hold Stripe." Bending over I picked up my phone from its time-out, before motioning for everyone to get the hell out of my room. It was weird having so many people inhabit it at the same time and I was sure it was having isolation withdrawals, much like I did when I was in a large group. "He didn't like it when I said he'd be a grandma, either."

"I wonder why, you asshole." Stan really needed to learn that I didn't give a shit about his opinion.

So I continued to talk as if I hadn't heard him. "I think if I let him be grandpa, though, he'll definitely go for it. So I might do that."

When we reached the downstairs landing, Ruby was practically right there waiting for us, and I didn't really think I wanted to know how long she'd been there because it was kind of creepy. That's what little sisters did when you had attractive friends: They lingered. I fucking hated lingerers.

"Where are you going?" She asked, following us all the way to the front door.

"A brothel." But actually I had no idea where our destination was. Brothel and Kenny just went together, easily making the most sense.

While the other three exited my house, they regarded her much more politely: Butters always one for manners, Kenny always one for making my sister blush because he got a kick out of it, and Stan was just stupid and unimportant and those were his best qualities.

"Where are we going?" My inquiry, identical to Ruby's, humored them.

"Tweek's," Kenny answered, hopping into his truck. It was a beat up contraption with an ugly ass, orange paint job but I guessed that's what you were stuck with when you were poor. All that really mattered was that it fit the blonde's personality and got good mileage.

"I just saw him like, two days ago. And every other day before that," I muttered, crawling into the back seat with Butters.

Kenny responded, "Then you should be uncontrollably happy you finally get to see him again after forty-eight torturous hours of separation."

"Pretty much." My agreement was complete and utter sarcasm. "I just can't live without him. I need my Tweek fix."

"Don't we all?" He winked at me as he turned in his seat to check if the coast was clear. Once he deemed it safe, the blonde backed out of my driveway and started down the street. There was a strange hiccup every time he shifted gears, one that was unusual to the natural hiccups known to stick shifts, as he turned onto the main road.

One of his windows was cracked and the duct tape covering it had withered down to bare, sticky threads, allowing the chilly winter air to leak inside. There was a dent in the roof, and one of the head lights was busted, and I was sure the tags on his license plate had expired. My favorite thing about his truck though, was probably how his heater didn't work. Whenever you turned it on, it blasted frozen air that was colder than the weather.

"So when are you going to let me fix your truck?" Every time I asked this, Kenny liked to divert the question. He was stubborn when it came this piece of shit and I never knew why. It wasn't like he couldn't trust me. I worked on different cars all the time with my dad whenever he got inspired to start a new project.

The reflection of his face in the rear view mirror remained neutral. "Eventually."

"Dude, one of these days you're going to break down and I'm going to drive by and laugh at you. I'll circle around you a few times, too. Just to rub it in."

"M-maybe you should listen to Craig, Kenny. I think he's near f-freezin' back here."

"Yeah, I've got blue balls. Listen to Butters and let me pimp your ride." I was seriously cold, though. That hadn't been sarcasm for once in my life. The skin on my legs felt like it was chaffing they were so icy. I could see my breath _inside_ his truck. Obviously there was an issue here.

"Maybe that's whats wrong. Maybe it's not my truck. Maybe it's _you_. You're so cold you can't even get a boner." And there was his diversion tactic.

I actually let him have that one, but only because it was plausible. What if my internal temperature was so low that erections just weren't possible? It sounded like it could be a real medical issue.

"Yeah, what's up with that, dude?" Marsh asked, turning around in his seat to consult me. "You seriously never get boners?"

Before I answered that, I teased Butters. "Are you allowed to be hearing this stuff?"

"I think so. I-I'm not too sure, actually. Maybe I should call my dad and ask?" Kenny and the retard sitting next to him laughed at Butters' insecurity.

"I was just fucking with you." Then I shrugged my shoulders in response to Stan's earlier question. "Never's an exaggeration, but it's not like when I get one I'm like 'damn, I should beat this shit'. It's more like 'alright, gunna sleep this one off'. That was an exaggeration, too. You can't sleep a boner off, unfortunately."

The noirette sat back in his seat, almost in a state of awe as he was silent for a moment.

"That sucks, dude," he apologized.

"Not really. It's not like I have anything to jack off to. The most attractive thing in my life is Stripe, and maybe those paper towels with the little puppy imprints, but I don't think I'll be jacking off to either of those anytime soon."

It was a good thing Kenny had stopped for a red light, because right after I said that, he started cracking up. "I love you, Craig. You know that, right?"

"Of course. Now let me fix your truck." He ignored me like usual, and preceded to turn into one of the miniature shopping areas when he had the right of way. It was the tiny district closest to our school that people usually came to when they got out for lunch. There was the Panda Express, a smoothie and yogurt shack, a few other nonessential stores, and Tweak Bros. "I thought you meant his house."

As the blonde found a spot to park, he explained the situation to me. "Tweek's never at his house, dude. He's always here, especially during breaks. Lately he's been with you, though." He spared me another wink before hopping out of his truck. "Isn't it kind of obvious? This place practically _is_ his house."

No, it hadn't been obvious. It was rarely ever that I entered the Tweak's establishment and I didn't remember seeing Tweek inside during any of those times. To be honest, I wasn't even aware of what his parents looked like, though I knew they worked there. I hadn't even thought of it, yet it made perfect sense. Tweek had always specifically requested that I drop him off at his home whenever we did the tutoring ordeal. Maybe this was like his secret hideout, a club made just for himself.

"Does he work here?" I asked.

"Is something wrong with you today?" Kenny came around the front of his truck and clonked me on the head. "You're extra retarded. His parents own the fucking shop." I knew that. Everybody and their mother knew that. "It's more like he interns. His parents are the only ones who actually have a job in the business. It helps a lot because they don't have to pay employees since them and Tweek are the only ones."

"Now that's something that sucks. Never getting a boner, I can deal with that. Doing work for no reason, fuck it. I'd emancipate myself."

"He loves it." _That's horrible._

"Sounds kinky."

"He's a coffee _machine_, dude." The three of us, Kenny, Butters, myself, and the odd man out, Stan Marsh, headed for the coffeehouse. "You know those designs you can make in a cup of coffee with the cream? Like little portraits of flowers and leaves and shit? He does _Batman_. That's all he ever does: just sits there and does coffee art and tries to find new pictures to paint or whatever the hell it's called."

Kenny stepped forward and grabbed the handle of the quaint, wooden door with the crooked Open sign. The ajar threshold offered an encompassing warmth that practically sucked me in, and I was perfectly fine with that. It smelt like freshly brewed coffee with a spicy undertone, maybe cinnamon or peppermint. I could never figure out what the scent was exactly.

All I ever seemed to know was that I pictured Mrs. Claus' kitchen whenever I happened across the coffee shop. Tweek was her little elf with the button nose and pointed ears. The two ideas fit together fairly well. If only they were true.

The blonde continued speaking, but I couldn't promise that I was listening. All I wanted was to figure out what that secret aroma was. "And when he's bored, he'll just make cup after cup of different coffees. That's why his parents love him working here. He'll dish out a cinna-mocha-frapachino and two grande-expresso-latte-ala'modes in fifteen seconds. Those aren't real names, I just thought of them off the top of my head."

Exactly as Kenny had said, there was only one employee, and if he was correct, that employee was actually just an intern, just the son of the man in charge. He stood behind a counter made of the same rustic wood as the door, wearing a green button up I surely hadn't seen in quite a while. The fabric had weird crinkles like it needed to be ironed, and a few of the buttons were undone- for once not out of place, just out of their buttonholes. Seeing the shirt made my head feel a tad bit lost, as I wasn't wearing my chullo. I didn't even know when the last time I'd worn it had been.

Tweek was living up to Kenny's expectations of him, working the equipment and machinery behind him for the customers waiting in line like that was all he knew how to do. He was like a robot, lost in some kind of mechanical trance, as he pressed buttons and pulled on levers, doing so many numerous things at once it was almost hard to watch. I was never sure which direction he was going to go next—he was dashing back and forth with such a spastic organization—like _he_ knew exactly where to go and when, but anyone who wasn't him had no idea what to expect.

What I thought was the best quality of his working style was that every time he handed a customer their order, he smiled dashingly, and for one heartbeat of a moment, was knocked right out of his robotic stupor, then thrust back into motion almost as if the split second had never happened.

We waited, because I guessed that's what you did when you had a friend that was working while there were customers around, and when the line finally dwindled down and dispersed, did Tweek finally notice us. Surprise ignited his eyes and he looked almost grateful, but I wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he needed a break; the kid hadn't even broken a sweat as far as I could tell.

"Butters!" He pranced around the counter to meet the other blonde's extended arms. They looked like an odd set of twins, all fragile and fair haired and literally gay. It was sort of weird.

"Gee-whilackers! You were kickin' some butt back there!" Tweek scrunched his nose up and laughed at Butters's strangely put compliment before pulling away.

"You missed it. Last night after you went home, Stan wanted to have a g-go at cuttin' my hair, but Kenny was worried he'd shave my entire head." Both of the blondes passed a look toward Marsh, who stood there with his hands raised in mock surrender. I wanted to throw up on those hands.

"He totally would've done it," Tweek warned teasingly.

"Hey, come on now," Stan chastised. "You've been hanging out with Craig too long. You're starting to turn into an asshole. Hang out with me and Kyle from now on. We're the good guys."

Yeah, definitely throwing up on his hands later. It was obvious when Tweek's cheeks pigmented at my name, because nobody but the two of us knew what really happened when you hung out with Craig for too long. I wondered what Kenny was going to think about his blush.

"You sure about that? Last I heard you spit in people's food." Despite his jeer, he stepped into the black haired boy's arms, and wrapped his own around the others waist in a firm hug. So close to Stan, I noticed how obvious their height difference was. Tweek really only reached up to Marsh's shoulder, and I was sure some of that was from his tufts of wild hair. The top of the blonde's head probably aligned perfectly with his collarbone.

Damn, that was like a good foot distance between the two.

"Only to people like Craig," Stan objected.

"And me," Kenny growled, punching his friend in the shoulder with one hand as he tore Tweek away with the other. The blonde laughed, tumbling into the darker blonde's chest. "You're lucky I switched burgers with Cartman, you dick. I'm glad you're a sensible worker, Tweek. You never defile your customer's food or beverages."

"O-of course not! That's fucking _unsanitary_, dude. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that. I mean, what if I have _type b herpes_?" He better not have fucking type b herpes. I kissed that goddamn mouth with my _tongue_. A lot.

He pulled away from Kenny and stumbled up to me, half tripping over his own feet. I realized now that he had hugged the three, so did that mean he was going to hug me too? We haven't hugged before, and first hugs were always the weirdest.

"H-hey, uhm-" He stopped in front of me like there was something in his way, and looked up at me as though he wanted me to remove the invisible barrier. His cheeks were still dusted pink and the rich green shade of his shirt made the color of his eyes appear rather vibrant. Their deeper hue accentuated the hollow, dark markings circling his eyes. It looked like he was wearing a natural toned eyeshadow, but really they were just permanently there. Funny, he never appeared tired- ever. The delicate, darkened skin beneath his eyes told differently, though.

"We gunna hug it out or...?" I allowed for my question to stray at the end, smirking under the intense awkwardness of our situation. The corners of Tweek's lips pinched like he was trying not to smile. He shook his head in unison with his shrugging his shoulders.

His mouth slipped into a cheeky grin. "Do you know how to hug?" The taunt was duly noted as I stared him down in a silent challenge. "Okay, I take it back!" He surrendered bashfully, letting loose a humble laugh. "Just don't like, crush me or anything." The simple warning stuck in the air, as if I were actually going to strangle him mid-hug. Tentatively, his hands raised.

They trembled, dropping back a cautious inch before lifting higher. This wasn't like how he'd hugged Marsh and I wondered if that was some type of sign or taboo. Did it mean something? When you hugged a person differently than you did another of the same height and stature? Because now he was rolling to the tips of his toes, and one of his feet had stepped over the nonexistent barrier. Both of his arms crisscrossed around my neck, effectively pulling me down until he was satisfied with my butchered height.

My own arms shifted, finding purchase at his dainty hips, and I suddenly knew what he'd meant when he said not to crush him. So I laid my hands gently against his back, wary of their pressure. The tips of his hair rustled against my cheek. He tilted his face into our embrace, causing his locks to sway. I had to avoid them so they wouldn't go up my nose, because that was probably the most sensitive part of me: my damn nostrils.

Clyde liked to try to stick wires and toothpicks up them while I was asleep, forcing me to wake up laughing. Fucking chubby bastard always fucked with me when I had my guard down. Feet and nose were my only weak points.

"This is making me feel awkward just looking at you guys," Kenny joked, or maybe he was being serious. It was most likely the latter as my hugging skills definitely weren't up to par with a regular human being's. "Please stop holding each other. It's extra creepy because Craig's involved." That deserved my middle finger. "You wound me," he admitted in response to the hand gesture.

Embarrassed by Kenny's antic, Tweek quickly dropped away, a pliant whine extracting from his throat as his cheeks grew further rosy. He was strict on his gaze, keeping it focused on anything but me. I made a mental note to never wear a green shirt and blush. The two completely contrasted and made the other more noticeable.

"Yeah, your hug kind of sucked." I agreed, firing two shots by also insulting the delicate blonde.

He huffed, beginning to get that fussy attitude he seemed to love when he was around me, and turned a fragile shade of red. "You're a hulking _beast_, Craig, so don't even start that with me."

His three friends appeared alarmed at his pissy comeback. For Butters and Marsh it was fine, I thought, their surprised features looked like a regular occurrence. It was Kenny's face that was strangely off. The blonde, who only ever knew everything about everyone- his expression seemed misplaced. His raised brows and crookedly upturned lips were uncharacteristic quirks that I rarely ever saw him wear, especially together.

"Did Tweek just sass Craig?" Stan asked, leaning toward Kenny like a different angle would clarify the scene.

"Yeah, dude. All this time I thought he was a sweetheart."

Tweek didn't like being put on the spot. He clenched his hands together, tugged at his hair, scratched his shoulder then the other, and continued to do all of these little movements as if he suddenly couldn't contain his energy levels. His eyes kept darting toward the counter and the coffee, like if he could just get over there he'd be safe.

I decided to break the tension, just because I've always wanted to do that. "Are you kidding me? This kid bitches at me all the time."

The _exact second_ everyone's eyes turned, Tweek was practically catapulting his slender frame behind the counter, narrowly dodging two coffee pots. I'm pretty sure he apologized to them and wiped them down with a dishrag even though they weren't dirty.

"Oh, really?" Kenny inquired, curiosity aroused. He inclined his head toward Tweek's hiding spot, and the blonde looked dismal as he was once again the center of attention. He tried to shoo us away as we made to inhabit his space once again.

"Dead serious. He's like my PMSing girlfriend." And I was going to be completely truthful: I loved the embarrassed squeal he released in rejection toward that comparison. It fueled the douche bag side of me, which was every side of me. So, just to get my favorite reaction out of the blonde, I leaned my hip against the counter and crossed my arms like I didn't give a fuck as I explained in detail, "If I slip up one time- if I just say _one_ wrong thing, he's pissy for the rest of the night. And then he'll make me take his boots off."

"I don't _make _you! I ask and you _do_ it! Stop trying to make me look bad, asshole."

I directed my thumb in his ticked off direction. "See what I'm talking about?"

"Gee, Tweek. I-I didn't know you had it in you!" Butters enthused, rubbing his knuckles together in his signature motif.

Tweek grumbled under his breath, toying with the dishrag by swiping down the already clean counter top. "What was that?" I teased, not asking for an answer even though he gave one to me anyways.

"If I'm your PMSing girlfriend then you're my douche bag boyfriend. You never treat me with respect and you don't make me feel pretty," he huffed indignantly, scornfully playing along. I had to ask myself how it was possible that someone could be pissed yet still have the humor to indulge in a game. A game that I was an excellent player at. Clyde had roughed me up for this moment with all of our fake boyfriend moments, it seemed.

"Is that so?" Kenny remarked, looking at me scornfully. "Treat your girlfriend with respect and make him feel pretty, Craig."

Rolling my head back, I wallowed in the few abrasive cracks, before settling my eyes on the pithy blonde below. He was looking up at me expectantly, with an expression on his face like sour milk. Well, he was probably the cutest little sippy cup of sour milk I'd ever seen. He played the unloved girlfriend role pretty well.

So in order to play the douche bag boyfriend part, I sneered in his face, "You look scandalous today. Your smile really speaks to my dick. I think it likes you."

He slapped me in the chest, gawking, flabbergasted at my crude remark. "C-Craig!"

The group around us laughed, so it had to have been expected when I continued, "Your blushing face gives me a bone-" Tweek hauled himself against my side, using my shoulder as leverage to pull himself up and slap a hand across my mouth, blocking any semblance of sound from escaping.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Beyond Stan's shoulder was Thomas, standing idle near the center of the coffeehouse.

I ripped Tweek's cumbersome hand away, as what little strength he held was no match for my power, and said, "Making my girlfriend feel pretty."

"Your girlfriend, huh?" He pondered, stepping forward to give a one handed hug to the boys. "And here I thought that Tweek was mine." In response, Tweek did nothing except merely give his friend a pointed stare. I couldn't help but take notice how he didn't seem to care when he was Thomas's girlfriend, but didn't appreciate it all when he was mine. Maybe my boyfriend skills really did suck, yet here I'd thought they were spectacular. I mean, _I'd_ want to be my girlfriend. That might just be my egotism fogging up reality, though.

"Eh, you can have him. He's a bitch to take care of, constantly needing shit and tampons, and whatnot. Birth control, stupid stuff like that. And he _still_ acts like he's on his period all the time. I really thought I had a keeper, you know? He was all drugged up so I thought he'd be easy. Boy, was that a mistake. I'll tell you what, though: You can even have him for free."

"Did you _really_ have to go on a tangent with that?" Tweek's frustration was apparent, gleaming at me from the corner of his eye as he hugged his friend. It was probably the most natural thing I'd ever seen him do. The action was so simple and he treated it like it was the only human interaction he knew how to do correctly. There was something unfortunate about that thought, but I knew that it was exactly what he believed to be true.

He knew how to kiss though, didn't he? I wouldn't have kissed him so many times if he sucked at it. Damn, I had to find this kid an ego somewhere and fast. It was damaging _me_ just thinking about his self esteem issues.

At least Thomas knew how to have a good time. He found whatever I said to be funny, and that was always cool. I just hoped he wasn't laughing because I was that one teacher or adult who was seriously just _not_ funny, the guy he felt so bad about that he was literally forcing himself to produce even a chuckle. It reassured me that the others were laughing along- but what if that meant I just had a rather serious case of the not-funny? Exaggerated worries, although I wasn't really worried, were reasons why I needed to stop hanging around Tweek.

The golden blonde boy kissed his friend on the cheek before pulling away, causing me to think snidely to myself:_ yeah, I did that too, a few nights ago_. He turned to me and I saw how his neutral toned cardigan matched his moccasins. That sight turned my thoughts into something more like: _yeah, he's definitely fucking gay_.

"Be careful," Tweek foreshadowed, muttering into Thomas's ear, "Craig likes to crush small, blonde homosexuals when he hugs them."

"Only you, Coffee Bean." I winked as I graciously gave Thomas the same half hug that he'd given the rest. That's when it dawned on me, my one armed act. _Did it mean something? When you hugged a person differently than you did another of the same height and stature? _If I had done it, then I guessed not.

And here I thought that the blonde had given me special treatment of some sort.

"So what can I get everyone?" Tweek asked, obviously trying his hardest to remain calm under my constant teasing remarks. His cheeks hadn't returned to their normal color since I'd shown up, and I took pride in that.

To help him along on his journey back to a face that didn't blush, everyone ordered something in a strange lingo that I seriously didn't understand. Butters ordered a Vanilla Bean Creme Frappuccino, Stan a Pumpkin Spice Latte, Kenny an Iced Caramel Macchiato, Thomas got a Green Tea Creme Frappuccino, and when it came to me I automatically said, "Coffee tastes like shit, so I'll take whatever isn't nasty."

I decided to take the blame for the mood shift when a sudden tension arose within the group.

Fortunately for Tweek, his face lost all of its color. Unfortunately for me, the blonde was staring at me with a pathetic disguise costuming his features. His eyes were magnified, exerting an emotion like devastation as they grew all glassy, glittering in a light that seemed to come out of nowhere, as though specifically set up just for him. His lips were tugged down in a terrible frown, pouting like they'd been stuck like that all his life. The aura surrounding him completely deflated and even his hair seemed to flatten at their tips, drooping with his mood.

Everything about him was taking a drastic downwards spiral, his limbs, his clothes, and the outer corners of his eyes. His entire physique was just _sad_. It was like I was watching those commercials with the abused puppies. God, it was worse than that. I was being forced to watch by my eyes stapled open, commercial after commercial of abused and abandoned _Stripes_.

Not once had I ever fallen for a puppy dog pout, but this- _This_ monstrosity was a _Stripey-poo pout_. "I'm about to punch you in the face, dude. Stop looking at me like that. You look like my guinea pig during his last vet visit."

"Did Tweek find a weak spot, Craig?" Kenny jeered, the look in his eyes telling me he was doing that weird thing he always did when his brain worked twice as fast to calculate the situations occurring around him. This was his technique he used to figure out the small details that pieced everything about everyone together. It was his extrospective skills that turned him into a human encyclopedia on the habits and behavior of anyone he'd ever managed to come into contact with. He might've been a druggie with no inspiration to lead a wealthy life, but he had a brain that was capable of documenting and evaluating large amounts of information. He was sure to remember every detail, too. Nothing ever got past this guy.

To get him off my case, I agreed nonchalantly as though it didn't matter if I had a weak spot or not. It didn't really, either. Weak spots just made life a little more difficult because they made you susceptible to damage. I could take a little damage, though. No skin off my back. If Kenny found out that Tweek wanted to suck face at every possible chance he got, that would be equivalent to skinning the blonde boy alive. I wasn't too keen on dealing with a skinned gay kid, so until he finally grew some balls, I'd have to play it low-key.

Not that I was ever anything _but_ low-key. It just wasn't fun when you _had_ to be that rather than staying on the down-low just for the hell of it. Tweek sure knew how to fuck with my life. I guess I didn't mind too much, though. He provided good entertainment, which was always lacking when it came to the Tuckers.

Kenny wasn't about to drop the question from his head, but he let it dissipate from the conversation. Tweek shuffled off, mumbling something about getting me a hot chocolate. I liked hot chocolate, but if the little blonde tried to jip me by throwing in an expresso shot, I'd know and I'd make him regret it. Butters asked how much we owed, although his kindness was shot down when he was told that we wouldn't be charged.

"Way to make a profit," I commented.

Under his breath, Thomas said, "Don't second guess him. Tweek likes to give us free stuff because he thinks that's the only way he can pay us back." He was stationed at my side, watching as his friend disappeared in the disguise of a robot.

"For what?" I asked. "We don't do anything for him."

"For being his friend," Kenny answered. It felt like someone had handed me a low blow even though the unintentional attack had been directed toward Tweek.

Even so, I could see the blonde believing that he had to give others stupid things like free drinks and food in return for their friendship. "That's pretty harsh."

He nodded. "Tweek's pretty harsh on himself."


	12. Chapter 12

DiatonicDictator was my 100th reviewer! :'D And I honestly thank you guys so much for giving me so much feedback. It's been very helpful.

Also, I'm getting over my motion sickness (has anybody gotten that from playing sims 3? because I did) and cramps, so I'm going to try to get back to all of your reviews tomorrow. Promise.

And in this chapter, I'm seriously just pretending to know what the fuck I'm talking about when I bring up cars. hahaha. I actually have no idea what any of the numbers or names mean.

* * *

><p>I woke up and texted Tweek. It was weird, because the first thing on my mind was never to get my ass in gear. But strangely enough, this morning I had awoken with an uncharacteristic fuel generating my system. After sending him a sly <em>Guess what you're getting today<em>, I got out of bed—just another odd happenstance since I usually rolled and flopped around some—and put my clothes on. Out-and-about clothes, too, whereas I usually just threw on some boxers for the weekend. God, what was wrong with me today?

Seriously, I just kind of felt like Token. He was the type of guy who got out of bed and went to work- _already ready_. It was like he fell asleep in his designated clothing for the next day, slept in them, and then ironed them while he was sleeping so that he could wake up pressed and fresh. For a split second I thought that maybe I'd woken up in his body, but after looking down at my lanky, white-boy physique, I deemed that false. _Looks like I'll never get that big, black dick I've always wanted._

My phone vibrated in the pocket of the pants that I shouldn't have been wearing. Pulling it out, I saw that Tweek was asking what the surprise was, and I laughed when I saw the added side note: _You better not say your penis._ I hadn't even thought of that but it was a good one. And to think that I was the blunt one.

_Nice to know you're thinking about my dick (;,_ I started typing, and I could've made the surprise entertaining by making him wait, allowing the suspense to fester until I brought him over and gave it to him. But I was the most boring person on the face of the Earth, so I just told him straight-up. Adding a quick, _I'm giving you that massage you've been waiting for. Not as appealing as my goods- I know, disappointing. I guess you'll just have a deal_, I sent the message.

It felt as though I wasn't real as I moved into my bathroom and brushed my teeth, took a piss, put on stupid smelly shit, all of these rituals that seriously weren't supposed to occur for another hour or two or at least until I was coherent enough to blink without passing back out. And yet I was.

I checked the time; it was twelve, just on the brink of afternoon. I guessed that wasn't _too_ bad. Three would've been better, though. _God, this is so weird_, I thought as I exited my room and made my way downstairs. _Ruby_ wasn't even awake yet.

From the couches came a muffled grunt, sounding distinctly like, "I thought I wasn't going to see your ugly mug for another few hours."

"You won't," I assured my dad, heading toward the front door. "I'll be gone for a while."

"What the hell are you taking your time for, then? Get out." My love for this guy was infinite.

"Don't get too fat sitting there all day." My voice was an echo from the hallway entrance. "Tweek'll be over and I wouldn't want you to scare him away."

"Your boyfriend loves me. Now _get out_." His tone rose above the sound of the television and practically rocked the room. I left, but not because he told me to.

Tweek was going to get a kick out of it when I told him my dad had called him my boyfriend _and_ said that he loved him. Actually, I was the one who got the kick out of it. I just wanted to see the blonde's horrified, blushing face when word reached him. Poor kids head was gunna roll.

About ready to drop into my car, I became distracted by a sticky note stuck to my windshield and pulled it off to inspect its mysterious nature. In my mom's motherly-cursive handwriting, the lovely script that the majority of moms always wrote with, it read: _Saw Tweek's mom at store. Gorgeous woman. Kind of weird. Looks just like her. PS: No friends over tonight. Dad's business buddies coming over. Look sharp._

_Sounds just like her, too._ I snickered at my own humor, placing the note on my dash so I could show it to Tweek later, and then started my car. Backing out the driveway, I mentally transferred a message to my mom. My thoughts told her that I would be having a friend over despite her warning, but I'd look sharp because I was always hot shit. She wouldn't receive my brain transmission, but she had otherworldly mother-senses so she'd get the gist that I was up to something unacceptable.

Starting down the street, passing globs of snow caked to the sidewalks and frozen-over roads with slick tar, I peered up at the sky when I came to a stop at the intersection. The clouds were gesticulating to each other with dim colors and claps of anger. It looked like it was going to storm later tonight, and I made a note to smell the weather when I got out next, since I hadn't thought of it when I'd left the house. Sometimes I wished I had a hip that ached when a storm started brewing, just so I could know before-hand _before_ everyone else except for the other people who had sensitive hips.

It just sucked having to drive through a weather storm, small or large. Even if it was the short distance to Tweek's and back, since I'd have to drop him off later. I would be able to plan my day accordingly if I had a bodily weather detector. That only came with age though, I was sure. Like around fifty or something. But by then I wouldn't _have_ to plan accordingly. I'd most likely be on my deathbed. There was a feeling in my gut that said I'd be the one unfortunate Tucker who would live a short life, whereas my grandpa on my dad's side was ninety-one and just wouldn't fucking croak already.

And I wanted a new car. A frown creased my features as I rounded a few turns and came upon a familiar neighborhood. I'd only ever been there every single day of my childhood. _Weather-hip and new car, specifically a Rolls Royce._ Those cars were motherfucking sex machines. _Luxury_ sex machines. All I had to do was look at one and it was like _bam_- just had sex.

Someday I'd fuck someone in it, my future car that is: a 1936 Rolls Royce Phantom III. Red and black paint, maybe blue if I really wanted to be a homosexual. I didn't even care if it was some bitch on the side of the road. Whoever I got to first, they were going to get my dick.

I just really liked old stuff. Cars, music, art, people. If they were over fifty, they were officially on my best friend list. Humans tended to lose their charm around eighty, though. After that I just knocked them off the list. It was a limited time offer, being my friend. Tweek didn't know what he was getting himself into. Clyde and Token were just stuck. Kenny was that weird variable that did whatever the fuck it wanted. Red was a woman so she could stick around, I guessed.

After parking in the Donovan's driveway, I sauntered up to their door and wandered inside. They learned the hard way to always leave their door unlocked after the unfortunate circumstance where it hadn't been. Years ago, around the ripe age of twelve, I had pretty much broken in, beat up Clyde for locking me out, and then bought his parents a new door nob to accommodate for the one I'd destroyed. To be truthful, I had actually taken _my_ house's doorknob, given it to them, and then made my parents buy a new one for themselves.

My first stop was the kitchen. Somebody was always in there, whether for eating or for lounging. That was probably why Clyde was so chubby, although it was most likely an irrational inference. Both of his parents were on the thin side, even more so when they had been their son's age. Their kitchen was just a temptress.

As suspected, Mrs. Donovan was sifting through the refrigerator. She was pulling out wrapped packages of ground beef, and there were a few boxes of taco shells already sitting on the counter. I'd have to get Clyde home before dinner time, then. Tacos were his favorite. (Dinner time for my best friend came three times a day. He had breakfast, lunch, dinner in the afternoon, dinner at its regular time, and dinner at night. Plus any snacks before, between, or after.)

"Hey, pretty lady," I said. Specifically to her ass that was winking at me through her sexy-mom jeans. I wasn't going to lie, Martha was a MILF. Her short crop of brunette hair made her look spunky, and spunky moms were tight. Everybody liked a fun, forty year old woman. Was I right, or was I right?

She popped up from her bent position, smiling at my presence. Coming forward to grant me a hug, I accepted her kind gesture and reciprocated. "It's nice to see you again, Craig. We've been missing you." That was code for '_Clydes_ been missing you'. I could hear it in her voice, her begging me to visit more often to keep their son from whining about my disappearance.

Well, I was taking him out today so maybe he'd shut up for twenty-four hours or so. "I'll have to come over some time for tacos, then. I miss your cooking." She backed up to stare at me skeptically, but it was true. Her tacos were better than Taco Bell's and Jack in the Box's combined.

"You can stay over for dinner tonight." Her suggestion phased right through me. Tweek would be over, and I had to be home for my Dad's friends. "You know you're always welcome."

"I promise to come over next time. So plan for more tacos next week."

Going back to her disrupted job, she glanced back with a curious grin. Stepping up beside her, I leaned against the fridge and watched her unwrap the raw meat. "You got a girl you're seeing or something?" She asked slyly, even though she knew about my less than empty track record with the ladies. _No, I've got a Tweek._

"You jealous or something?" I shot, tossing a flirtatious wink in with it.

"I'm twice your age, honey." Her pat on my shoulder didn't go dismissed.

My thoughts from earlier returned. "I like old things." She shot me a glare with protruding daggers. Pretty sure I was bleeding now. "I'll just wait until you get there, I guess. What? Another twenty, thirty years is it?" That was one of the things I'd learned from my own mom: make a pass at her age and then cover it up with a coy catchphrase. Strangely, the same thing didn't work with dads. Make a pass at their age, they DGAFed it. "But no. No ladies."

"A boy perhaps?" _No, I've got a Tweek,_ my thoughts repeated. I was hanging out with him a lot. And kissing him a lot. And maybe Clyde felt like he was being replaced, which wasn't an ill conclusion. The blonde had just kind of shoved himself into my life, but he fit.

Sometimes I thought of every person as a puzzle. Clyde, Token, and I were perfect matches. Our pieces connected and we grew. But Tweek's piece had an odd shape, so he never quite fit. Maybe I had a weird corner, though. Maybe he saw it and stuck himself to it, because he couldn't really put his own puzzle together. Alright, I actually only thought like that when I was high. But Tweek's mouth was something else, dude.

I just liked kissing it. And that was a first for me. Before Tweek, I had never wanted to kiss someone because it felt good. I hadn't even known that kissing _could_ feel good. So I was going to enjoy it while it lasted, because it was fun. It was really fucking fun.

"Are you questioning my ability to get a woman?" I asked, feigning a sense of something akin to being peeved. I wasn't a good actor, though. She looked up at me, eyes foretelling the same thing. "Alright, I get it. Where's Big Daddy D? He can give me some relationship advice." The name Big Daddy D was pretty self explanatory.

MILF and Big Daddy D. Best couple in the neighborhood. I'd tap both their asses.

"In his study. Make sure you knock before entering," she reminded. "He doesn't like being interrupted while-"

"Jacking off. I know. Me too." Placing a quick kiss on her cheek, I eloped alone toward the study. It was Mr. Donovan's private room, one that Clyde was never allowed in. His parents were worried he'd masturbate all over the ancient novels and old biblical tales. They had every reason to be just so, because if there was a room with a computer in it, Clyde was going to beat his meat.

First-hand experience of that: myself. I've caught him jacking off in my own room countless times. When he wasn't sober, he liked to do it in Ruby's. One time he did it beside her while she was sleeping. It was the most hilarious moment of my life, and she would never live it down even though she had no idea it happened.

Coming to a door set apart from the living room, I knocked three times like I always did before opening it to peer inside at its elegant contours. Large bookshelves filled with texts and documents covered the walls, giving the area a sophisticated feel. It was a classic study, and an oak table was set up in the middle of the cacophony of rustic books. The troublesome computer rested right on top of it.

Mr. Donovan was sitting before the screen, his square glasses and clipped appearance always one for making him look snippy. "Do you by chance have any relationship advice, Mr. D?" Lifting his eyes, the same somber brown Clyde had inherited, he respectively glanced up at me. It felt like it'd been forever since I'd received his know-it-all look. Having witnessed the things I missed about the Donovans made me want to visit the Blacks. I'd do that tomorrow, I decided.

"Never go for a married woman," he said curtly, as though he'd been the love guru for a millenia or more.

My eyes narrowed speculatively. "How did you know I was flirting with your wife?"

The corner of his mouth lifted in a fatherly smirk as he said, "She's out of your league, boy."

"I'll trade you my sister for Martha," I wagered. If he was smart, he'd pass it up.

"Why don't you go wake up Clyde?" His eyes reverted back to the computer. _Denied._ "He's been moping around and sleeping in since school let out. Token can't even cheer him up." My best friend was such a crybaby.

"Next time he tries to pull a stunt like this, just beat him. He'll come out of it. See you later." As the door shut, I heard a soft farewell.

Backtracking, I cut through the dining room and started down a short hallway. Near the middle of it was another door and, much like the front, I just opened it and walked inside. The smell of stale clothes and dirty dog told me plenty about the situation. He really hadn't gone anywhere since our break began. Boxers and pants and a few forgotten bras littered the floor, as well some chew toys and half eaten rawhide bones.

Rex leaped from the foot of the bed he was curled up against and rushed toward my side with the same young personality he'd always had that countered his old age. Kneeling down, I thrust my hands into his fur and rubbed aggressively. He panted and slobbered, getting the knees of my jeans wet, but I didn't care. I kissed the tip of his wet nose, vaguely reminded of doing the same to Tweek but a few days before. The dog's tongue, dripping moist, slid over the expanse of my entire cheek. I grinned, sticking my tongue out to get him back. And then I remembered he had fur, but I did it anyways.

A troubled groan erupted from the volcano of sheets. "Rex," it whined. "Get the fuck back here. Mom, get the hell out." After a simmering pause, Clyde mumbled, "Unless you came to tell me the tacos are ready." I smirked at his childishness, plucking hairs out of my mouth as I stood. Rex circled around something invisible before jumping on top of his owner.

The slumbering brunette cried out in annoyance when his dog pranced across his body, licking and nipping at his skin beneath the blankets. His comforter rustled, and then a head of brown tresses appeared. "So this is your way of showing how much you miss me?" A puzzled, sleep-dazed gaze darted around to blink blearily at me. "That's pretty sad, dude."

"Craig?" The brunette wondered, exaggerating the emotion of his confusion to the point where it sounded like he couldn't believe I was actually there. His reaction to my appearance was so comically cliche that I laughed mockingly so he'd know I was making fun of him.

"No, this is Patrick." Spongebob was our guilty pleasure when we we weren't sober. It was kind of like my peace offering for pretty much blowing him off this past- God, how long had it been? A month and a half? It felt like I was still in school; still failing math.

Time was a strange thing when it felt like none had passed at all.

"What the fuck are you doing here, man?"

"Thought I'd give being a best friend a try. I heard you've been a big pussy since I've been gone." Except I hadn't gone anywhere. Clyde was just trying to pry my attention away from who he was jealous of: Tweek.

"No, I haven't." He muttered, slinking back into the coil of his blankets. Rex barked, and his tail started wagging violently when I stepped up to the edge of his bed. I'd lay down, but then I might get the idea that sleeping for a few more hours was a good idea. Clyde always made me tired for some reason, like he was a human poppy flower.

"Clyde, get out of bed and get ready. We're going out. I'll be waiting downstairs with your mom. You've got five minutes." Turning around, I stopped, leaned back, and motioned for Rex to follow. He lunged off the bed, getting a head start out the door. "I'm taking your dog with me, just in case you had it planned that you were going to snuggle up and fall back asleep with him."

The brunette was grumbling curses as I left and, heading back to the kitchen, I pulled out my phone and checked for any messages. Sometimes the vibration wasn't enough to grab my attention. Waiting for me, as I'd suspected, was a new text.

_Really? (: I thought you forgot about it!_

It was just like him to ignore my sentiments about how a massage wasn't even close to adding up to the righteous amount that was my dick.

I texted back, _So you weren't even going to remind me, even if I did forget? Lets just pretend I didn't say anything, then. I don't want to do this if I don't have to._ When I entered the kitchen, it smelt very Hispanic. Mrs. Donovan was in the middle of seasoning the now cooked meat with the taco seasoning I'd seen earlier. The browned meat took on a deep red hue, hissing in the large saute pan.

Catching sight of me out of her peripheral, Clyde's mom sent me a quick smile. "How bad was it?" Rex sat at her feet, begging patiently for a little nibble or two.

"It smelt like shit. Looked like shit. Your son is disgusting." I moved to the opposite side of her and jumped backwards onto the counter, using the momentum of my wrists to propel myself until I was safely set. Their dog switched tactics, coming over to beg at me instead. He looked up at me with almond eyes and floppy ears, a true puppy dog pout. This guy was smart; he knew what features to use that would put him at an advantage.

Relenting, I grabbed a dog treat out of the dog-shaped cookie jar placed conveniently in the corner of the counter. Holding it out to Rex, he saw its bone shaped outline and made a fast pass at it by jumping up between my legs to snatch it from my fingers. He salivated all over my jeans, again.

My phone buzzed against the counter, making enough commotion for me to take notice, as well as Mrs. Donovan. Tweek had replied, and I read his text as I fed another treat to the dog. _): You're not allowed to go back on it now, asshole. But you're seriously going to give me a massage? _I smirked at his contradictory question. He was so full of second guesses it was ridiculous.

_Only if you give me some lovins._

His reply came fast. _What's a lovin?_ I imagined him being frightened, unsure of what the term meant, but scared that it was some kind of code word for 'blow job' or something along those lines.

_Lovin's. You know, lovings. You gotta show me some love. Like people do with their dogs or something._ Looking down at Rex, I narrowed my gaze. He sure was an influential animal. So influential that I wanted to be fed treats from the cookie jar on the counter, and drool all over somebody's jeans. Preferably Tweek's.

"Who're you chatting with?" Mrs. Donovan asked, craning her neck to take a peek at my phone. I showed her the screen so she wouldn't stretch too far and expose her neck to the sizzling pan, just as a precaution. The last thing I wanted was for Clyde to see that I'd damaged his mom, especially after our disconnectedness. And then I thought about it. And then I decided that it was Clyde's _dad_ I was wary of. He'd never let me have his wife if I damaged her. Yeah, that sounded a lot better.

She gave me the same curious look as before. So I explained, "This is who I've replaced Clyde with." My expectation was that the brunette's story had been exactly that. That I had replaced him with someone else. By the recognition designing his mom's features, I was correct.

"Tweek, right?" She asked.

God, it was worse than I'd expected. With this piece of information, I knew now that Clyde had probably described Tweek as schizophrenic with a severe case of B.O.

"Yeah. He smells like coffee and chocolate, probably schizophrenic." The best I could do was debunk at least one of Clyde's false rumors because, honestly, he probably was schizophrenic. Mrs. Donovan nodded in understanding, although I was never sure who's word she believed in more when it came to the tiffs between me and her son. She liked to be the neutral variable, just like Token.

Sending the text, I sat back and waited for Clyde. His five minutes was almost up and I was aggravated that he was pushing my limits. He never let me be the nice guy without being a bitch about everything. Maybe I'd punch him in the nuts when I dropped him off, that way he could cry as he ate his first dinner.

He slumped into the kitchen, rubbing his hands over his face to get rid of any lingering sleep. Dressed casually in a faded pair of jeans and a white shirt that was about as boring as myself, the brunette came over to slouch against his mom.

"We're going to pick up Stoley, alright?" He mumbled, pretty much to her.

"Oh, really?" I asked. "That gay fuck in my car? I don't think so, bro." To his mom I said, "Your son's gay, Martha. Just thought you should know. He's going to try and get it on in my car with this guy."

"Shut up, Craig!" Clyde whined, but his eyes were alight in a way that told he'd genuinely missed my teasing. "You and Tweek are practically married, so you can't say shit." There was a bitter edge to his voice, and a snide grin worked its way onto my face. I loved being the cause of his jealousy. Although if I wanted to get technical, it was _Tweek_ who was the cause, but technicality was for trigonometry only.

"Whatever you say, bro. I'm sure Tweek would love to agree with you." _Since he has a crush on me._ The blonde would be so mad if he heard me right now, but it wasn't my fault that he was in denial about his infatuation with me.

The brunette, obviously upset that his insult hadn't gotten to me, grumbled, "Whatever, lets go." He met my eye, and after the slight quirk of his brow, we leaned forward in unison to kiss his mom's cheeks. She smacked her son with the but of her wooden stirring spoon, shooing the two of us away.

"So we're really picking up Stoley?" I asked on our way out the door.

"Yeah. He said he's at the gas station down the street. I guess he went there for-"

"I don't care." Shoving Clyde out the door, I followed after him and got into my car. "QT?" I inquired, just to be on the safe side. The brunette nodded as he snuggled into the passenger seat. It'd been awhile since he'd gotten to sit shotgun, so I figured he missed it and wanted to rekindle with its plush surface. Backing out of his driveway, we started for the gas station.

"What's the occasion? Or did you actually decide to be nice and hang out with me for no reason?" Ouch. That one kind of hurt. Possibly because I knew that the truth was going to suck.

"I have to get some lotion or something for a massage."

Clyde's face scrunched up in a state of curious confusion. "That's what you're spending your first pay check on?" Granted, it wasn't my _entire_ pay check. Just a small chunk of it, but what else was I going to spend it on? Alcohol? Drugs? Women? A car. I guessed I could wait for pay check number two to start that.

"Pretty much," I explained, waiting for the moment when he realized what it'd be for. Surprisingly, it didn't take too long.

Pulling into Quick Trip, he deflated and guessed, "For Tweek, right?"

"I lost a bet. I have to." There was no force behind it, despite the way I had phrased it. I didn't necessarily _have_ to give the blonde a massage, but I _wanted_ to. "Don't look at me like that." I commanded, referring to his stupid, fallen expression. Why did he have to get so upset about everything? If he wanted a goddamn massage, I'd give him one too. Maybe I should've said that instead, because he didn't take my order too well by the way his eyes hardened.

"So why am I here, dude? Why don't you just take Tweek? How many days have you been hanging out with him since break started?" _Whoa._ This was sounding a little too much like a jealous-girlfriend argument. I laughed disbelievingly, shaking my head as I removed my hands from the wheel. We were parked in front of the gas station and I figured Stoley was waiting inside.

"You're getting on my case about how many _days_ we've hung out? Calm down, dude." To be completely honest, I didn't understand what his deal was. The brunette, Token, and I had _just_ been together a few days before when we'd all gone to one of Kenny's parties. It wasn't like I was ditching them. I couldn't even ignore them without getting my ass handed to me by their tag-teaming barrage of texts and calls every day when I woke up.

"Don't try to dodge the question. Answer it, Craig."

"Yeah, well maybe if I understood the question. You're not making any sense."

"Have you been hanging out with him every day? How hard is that to answer?" Every day? Today marked a week since the start of Christmas break. There weren't many days to begin with.

"Five out of seven, probably. One of those was with you, so stop freaking out." My answer only angered the brunette further.

"Look at it as a ratio, dude! Tweek's got me beat five to one. What the hell, man?"

Staring exasperated at the roof of my car, I scoffed at how full of pure jealousy he was. "You're such an idiot, Clyde. What's the point you're trying to make? I've been hanging out with Tweek excessively. Big deal." His face flushed in anger and he turned toward me abruptly, chucking his fist straight toward my face. His knuckles connected with the side of my eye, and I let him do it, because it was the only way I'd be able to get him to calm down.

"What's so great about him, dude?" The brunette accused, ripping his seat belt off to punch me in the same spot. The second time stung twice as bad and I was definitely going to end up with a black eye. "Because he's gay and easy to push around? You always call _me_ gay and push _me_ around, so just drop him and come back to me and Token!" So now he was making this an issue about _wanting_ to be ridiculed? He really had missed me, but I hadn't even done anything to deserve this kind of response from him.

"I don't push him around because he's gay," I said, tone low and calm. _I _tease_ him because he's gay._ "You're not going to get your way with whatever irrational jealousy you're hurling at me right now." The third blow from his clenched fist fell short, feeling like a light tap compared to the previous attacks.

"I'm not expecting to get my way." He admitted, voice cracking under the strain of his clenched throat. "I'm just pissed."

"No. You're jealous. And you should be, because Tweek's not going anywhere. He's like you and Token. He's stuck with me, alright?" My next words came out slow and steady so that my best friend would understand perfectly fine. "_Just like you and Token_. Nobody is going anywhere. I like all three of you very much." Looking out the window caused my eye to hurt. The movement irritated my bruising skin. "Stoley's coming."

Clyde was shuffling out of my car to greet the black haired nerd as quickly as possible. I sat back and watched their communication with an odd sense of satisfaction, partly because I loved being the mature one, partly because what I said had registered in the brunette's brain. Just before he'd rushed out, there had been a look of contemplative comprehension in his eyes. He'd feel bad, and he'd apologize, and he'd ask me to stay for tacos but I wouldn't because of Tweek, and then he'd tell Token that he was okay, and Token would be grateful that he'd no longer have to put up with Clyde's jealous attitude anymore.

Everything was good now. Really good if I counted the amount of extra seconds it took for Stoley and Clyde to finish hugging. For the sake of being an asshole, I honked the horn when their embrace started leaning toward the long side. Both jumped, but only the nerd shrieked. It reminded me of Tweek, except the blonde's was more high pitched and scared sounding. The two pulled away, embarrassed, and Clyde jacked my trademark by throwing up his middle finger. It felt good to flip him off right back.

When the two got in, Clyde in the front, Stoley in the back to seem less suspicious, I took a quick look at him in the rear view mirror. "Looking good, Kevin. How's _Battlestar Galactica_ been going for ya?" He smiled at me, but I was pretty sure he had to beat himself to get it out.

"You mean _Star Wars_?"

Exiting the gas station, I replied, "_Yeah. _That too." Clyde rolled his eyes next to me. "What? Are you just fucking with me, Stoley? Is it _Star Trek_ you have a boner for?"

The brunette punched me again, thankfully in the shoulder this time. "It's _Star Wars_," he corrected.

"See, I had it right." Holding up one hand as I started for the Walmart located in the shopping complex down a couple of more streets, I put my index and middle finger then my ring and pinky together and said, "Godspeed." Clyde put his head in his hands and Stoley laughed from the back seat.

"You're so embarrassing," the brunette whined. "That's _Star Trek_."

"Well, it's not my fault they're all the same." By the way both of them were silent and glaring at me, I knew that obviously I had said the wrong thing. "Come on, dude. Not every goddamn space movie has to have the word 'star' in their name."

"Just shut up, Craig."

"What?" I asked, unknowingly digging myself deeper. "Dude, seriously. You wanna know where it's at? _Lord of the Rings_. _Nothing_ beats _Lord of the Rings_."

"I despise you sometimes. I really do." Clyde turned around to look at Stoley, and the two of them shook their heads.

"Alright. Whatever. It's cool. I'm sure Token understands what the real classics are." I purposefully said that because I knew it would get under their skin. Everybody in their right mind knew that _Star Wars _and _Star Trek_ were top class. As for _Battlestar Galactica_, I wasn't too sure. I've never seen it so I couldn't put an opinion on it.

"You cool with murdering Craig in the middle of the night with me?" I laughed at the brunette's vindictive threat. Avid Trekkie fans or whatever the hell they called themselves were so touchy.

"Yeah. Lets do it," Stoley agreed wholeheartedly.

"You're going to die a virgin, Craig. How does it feel?" _Pretty good, since I'm not. Sucker._ So I just continued to laugh instead of answer.

After I simmered down, Stoley piped up from the back, wondering where exactly we were headed and why. Clyde explained that it was to pick up some lube, and I honestly couldn't disagree. Massage oil and lotion was supposedly really good for lubrication according to Kenny. And everybody listened to Kenny, because he knew what he was talking about through experience. Tweek was going to throw a fit when I told him this.

For the blonde's sake though, I straightened a few details out. I wasn't too keen on the idea of Stoley possibly mentioning the time I went shopping for lube with him, so in order to avoid that, I mentioned the massage ordeal. He nodded along, finding comfort in the topic of Tweek opposed to _Star Wars_ since the two of them were friends, and clearly I hadn't known what I was talking about when the space movie had come up. Perhaps if he were a fanatic for _Star Trek_ things would be different.

I could talk about Spock all day long. He was a badass, and that was about as far as my knowledge on him went. Seriously, I just liked his hair cut.

"So you're giving him a massage because you lost a bet?" Stoley clarified.

"Yeah. I was an idiot for thinking he couldn't tie a cherry stem with his tongue. But he's gay, so obviously his mouth can do a lot of things." Sometimes I could be a huge douche. Tweek could never know I was saying this stuff behind his back. He would make me his personal slave for the rest of my life.

"Low blow, man. Low blow," Clyde chuckled, finding humor in my teasing remark toward the blonde.

"Tweek's good at stuff like that," Stoley stated.

My best friend and I paused, stopping to look over our shoulders at it him. It was a good thing we were at a red light, because there was no stopping my curious glance. At our sudden attention, the black haired nerd seemed to rethink his answer before blushing fervently and raising his hands as though to push away the last thing he'd said.

"And how do you know this?" I questioned, grinning at his gaping mouth. It hung open, useless and embarrassed.

Due to his Asian heritage, his eyes had that slight dip to them while still managing to appear American. They made me think of a puppy dog, and his floppy mop of dark hair only related to the comparison. I thought that if this was what Clyde saw, then I'd understand why he thought Stoley was cute. Because he was, and maybe if the two got together I wouldn't make fun of them too much.

"I- No, no. That's not what I meant! I didn't mean for it to sound like that!" Clyde and I teased him, giving him skeptical stares. He blubbered for a few moments longer before we decided to let him go.

"We know what you meant," Clyde started.

"I don't." I admitted. "What is Tweek good at?"

Stoley seemed less shaken now that he knew he had no reason to be mortified. "Just things that most people can't. Like he can touch his nose with his tongue, and wiggle his ears. He can do this awesome tongue roll thing. It's like a wave. He can lick his elbow, and his arms are double jointed. I probably shouldn't be telling you this- he's really shy about it, but he doesn't have a gag reflex. At all. He balances stuff on his nose, like sticks and baseball bats. Uhm..." As he tried to think up more peculiar things that Tweek could do, I thought that the blonde was quite unique.

There was no way I could do any of that stuff. I knew some cool smoke tricks, but that was it. Maybe he was meant to be gay since he didn't have a gag reflex. He was going to be pissed when I teased him about that one. More so, he'd be pissed at Stoley for saying anything at all. If I could get his nerdy ass in trouble, I would be so happy.

Damn, I missed saying that.

Pulling into Walmart, I interjected whatever conversation Clyde and Stoley were having to say, "Alright. We're here, so lets get in and get out."

My best friend looked at me pointedly. "One does not simply walk into Mordor, Craig." He laughed so hysterically that his black haired nerd was forced to join in. Finding a parking spot, I scoffed and pretended that it wasn't funny, but it was. Walmart was never a get in-get out deal.

"Shut up, Clyde. You're not supposed to make me laugh." _One does not simply walk into Mordor_, I repeated in my head. And then I was laughing just as uncontrollably, unable to help it. When my eye scrunched up, it hurt, but that just made everything more humorous. I got out of my car, hunched over with laughter. I wasn't sure what people thought of me, probably that I was drugged up with my black eye, but that was fine because _one does not simply walk into Mordor_.

We walked into the large shopping complex and I immediately lost Clyde to the bakery. Rather than follow me, Stoley went with the brunette. Well then. Staring at their retreating forms, I decided that they could find their own ride home. I smirked when I thought about leaving them unaware. Stupid fucks wouldn't even know. They'd probably get stuck looking at the video games and then the toy light sabers and stormtroopers masks. After a couple of hours they'd realize I wasn't there, but already at home.

Liking that plan I added: stop at Clyde's and eat his share of tacos. That's what you got for leaving your best friend alone in Mordor to fend for himself. Stoley was like Smeagol, whispering deceitful lies into the brunette's gullible ear. The nerd was going to steal him away and turn my best friend into a _Star Wars_ junkie. What I should've done was been like Sam, a faithful friend, but the idea of pissing Clyde off by eating his dinner with his family instead of he doing it himself- it was just too good to pass up. He'd end up revolting against me for the rest of the break, but that was what Tweek was for. Better entertainment.

I ended up searching the aisles near the make-up, completely oblivious to where the lotion would be, but figuring it was a girl's thing so it should be located there. Passing by the lipstick, I was almost tempted to get some for Tweek just to see his face flush and fume. That would've been a real waste of money, though. So I continued looking and ended up coming across lotion and oils in the skin care section. God, I was a fucking idiot for not going there first.

Taking a quick peek at my phone, I saw that Tweek had replied to my last message about my need for some lovin's. He asked if I meant like a dog and I typed out a simple, _Yes._ I sent it and then I called him.

When he picked up, I started speaking before he could manage a greeting. "Alright. You've got four choices." He tried to butt in, but I was already talking. "Miracle Massage: Deep Tissue, Massage Oil Romance, Massage Oil Sensuality, or Massage Oil Forbidden Fruit. I prefer the last one. It sounds like you."

"You're joking." He said in disbelief. "Are you trying to trick me? Are you looking at lubricant or something?" Now he was squeaking with embarrassment.

"It's actually Aromatherapy. Oh, wait- I forgot one. I can also get Good Clean Love: Caribbean Rose."

"Craig! Stop fucking around."

"I'm not," I admitted, opening the cap to Caribbean Rose. "Yeah, we're not doing this last one." Taking another whiff just to make sure, it only doubled my dislike. "It smells like Clyde's asshole." Tweek sputtered out a snicker, and I smirked because I'd gotten him with that one, much like how my best friend had gotten me with Mordor. "Do you want the best smelling one or what?"

The blonde hummed for a second before asking, "Well, whats the deep tissue one?"

"Uh." I stared at the large container of it, wondering if I was supposed to use that whole thing on one body. "It's for deep tissue massages. I don't know what the fuck that is, though."

"O-okay. Then- uhm... Yeah, just go with the best smelling one." To keep it simple, I grabbed Forbidden Fruit and started walking away. "And don't just grab that fruit one because I'm gay!" This kid knew me too well. Maybe I was just extremely easy to read. Either way, I was going to have to fix that.

"Don't be a bitch," I complained, opening the shampoo sized bottle of oil. Hovering my nose over the lip of it, I inhaled. An acidic aroma touched my senses, something like oranges and lemons. It was a clean scent, and I thought that Tweek would like that. He seemed like a neat-freak. "Forbidden Fruit smells delicious. I'm getting it." Practically able to see him pout through our connection, I added, "You'll like it."

"Okay," he agreed, albeit a bit warily.

"Don't worry, pussy." I assured. "If you don't like it, then we wont use it. I'll just have wasted my money on nothing."

"Don't guilt trip me, you asshole."

"Just as long as I'm not Clyde's." He made another muffled giggle. "When do you want to hang out?" For some reason, the blonde sobered up and the line was dead silent. I was sure he could hear the chatter from the people around me, while I could just barely hear the television coming in from the back of his line.

"O-oh, well- uhm. H-how about like- shit, uh, s-six? _Nghh_. Yeah, six sounds g-good. Is tha- Is that okay with you or would another time be better? Maybe tomorrow or something because I'm free whenever." His words were rushed, each one seeming to be in a race to escape his mouth.

"Six is fine, dude. No need to freak out." Stepping around a long line of grocery shoppers, I found a shorter one in the twenty-items-or-less line.

"I'm not freaking out!" _Yeah, you are._ "I just h-have something to do today, alright? That's it. So just c-come and g-get me at six."

"Like what?" I teased. "You got other friends you're kissing or something?"

His breath caught, and he choked on it, causing me to laugh. "N-no! Just be here at six."

He hung up on me.


	13. Step Three

You all are just delightful today. Here's a Thanksgiving gift in the form of the longest chapter to date!

helpful hints- Really? I never knew that. haha. Looks like Stripe is invincible then! XD Thank you very much (:

anonymous- Seriously? I never knew that! hahaha. I just always thought blonde sounded so pretty (which would made sense since it's feminine), but Tweek is technically a woman in disguise, so I think I'm going to keep it the same just because I'm stubborn like that XD Thankfully someone finally mentioned that nonexistent gag reflex of Tweek's! Craig will definitely be using it to his advantage.

* * *

><p>Well, I showed up at six and he was waiting right there. Everything seemed fine, almost as if nothing had happened. Like he hadn't freaked out and then hung up on me. What <em>was<em> odd was that he was fumbling with something, and when I pulled up, he dropped it. As he took a dive for whatever it was, I thought about running him over, but he sounded extra edgy today, so I decided to be nice and honked my horn instead. He popped up with a scoop full of snow and brought it with him into my car.

He brought _snow_ inside my _car_.

I watched him with a blank canvas for a face as he got in, sat down, and shut the door. After that, he proceeded to pluck a bunch of yellow pills out of the snow clump and put them in a prescription bottle between his legs. My curiosity wondered if this was a regular occurrence for him- if on a regular basis he picked up random piles of snow with medication stowed away in them and saved the pills for later. That would've been a good excuse as to why he was crazy.

When all of them were found, the blonde reopened the door and dumped what was left of the snow back outside. Not once did he look up as he capped the bottle and placed it in his bag. The same bag he took to school, the same bag he took to my house, the same bag he took pretty much everywhere. Only when the pills were no longer in sight and, again, it was as if nothing had happened, he greeted me.

"Thanks for waiting so long to c-come and get me, I-" Glancing up, he took one look at my face and blanched. His expression of unbridled fear and worry made me laugh. "What the hell happened to your _eye_?"

Really, it wasn't that bad. I had taken a look at it in the Walmart bathrooms before I made my getaway.

It was barely swollen, slightly puffy around my temple, but nothing more. The color made it look worse than it actually was. A blackening violet lay beneath my eye, tinted a deep blue where the swelling was, and red—a dangerous shade I actually thought was rather pretty, especially on me—surrounded the darker tones.

Smirking, I commented, "I make a black eye look pretty good, don't I?"

The blonde didn't seem to appreciate my sarcasm, for he cried out: "You have a _black eye_, Craig! Who _did_ that? W-we're not going to- Sweet Jesus, we're not going to get _mugged_ are we?"

"By Clyde?" I scoffed. "Don't think so."

"_Clyde_ did that?" Tweek looked taken aback, confused.

"Yeah. I let him," I explained shortly, backing out onto the street.

"You _let_ him?"

The blonde would make a cute parrot, I decided. "Yeah. It was fun." I only said that to see if he'd repeat me one more time.

"It was _fun_?" The fact that he was outraged made it all the more hilarious.

"Yeah. And Stoley jumped in and they tag teamed me." And then I added, "I got it up the butt." By now he knew I was just fucking with him, the realization substantial enough to make him blush hotly. That had been fun, though. I wanted to do it again sometime.

Tweek, flustered, backed away into his seat, throwing on his seat belt when he noticed that it was absent. He was quiet up until we passed the second light, now halfway to my house.

"Why did he do it?" He asked quietly, but I wasn't going to get mad at him for asking.

"Because of you, actually." Tweek didn't react as I thought he would. I'd been expecting dubious questioning, some horrified response, anything but the silence my confession evoked. Raising a brow I continued, just to make sure he wasn't suddenly a vegetable. "He's jealous."

Like before, he waited a while before speaking, but when he did, he sounded _proud_, possibly with a hint of disbelief like he couldn't comprehend that he'd made somebody jealous. "H-he is? ...Of me?" _This poor kid_, I thought. He desperately wanted me to say yes, and he was staring at me with ogling eyes that would devour the response I was about to give him.

Nodding my head, I said, "Yep. We hang out a lot now, so he thinks you're replacing him."

The blonde didn't allow himself to eat up my affirmation, even though he was starving for someone to finally tell him that he could do something other than twitch and freak out and make weird noises when he was nervous. He scoffed instead, and said a quick line that I thought was fairly funny. "You're best friends. I can't beat that." I didn't kiss Clyde, though. I didn't flirt with Clyde. I didn't think about Clyde sometimes and think, _that was pretty cute_. So Tweek had beaten him there, at least.

"We can be best friends, too." I hadn't been thinking those words over. I was concentrating on the road, on the woman on her bike just a foot or two to the right, and I was telling the blonde inside my head that he was different from Clyde. So the suggestion had taken on a route of its own- straight out of my mouth and into his ears.

When he stilled I didn't know what to make of it. Whether it was good or bad or nothing at all. From my peripheral, I spotted his opened his mouth but no sound came out. He closed it and looked out the window at the woman who knew how to keep her speed. _If she wants a race, I'll run her fat ass over. Nobody beats me._

_'Except Clyde'_, my own thoughts objected, and I snickered in my head.

Tweek tried for a second time to speak up, successful on this attempt. "It took me three years before I became best friends with Thomas."

"I'm not Thomas. And I'm not gay. I think that makes this case a little different," I teased, just to lighten the mood because it felt a little low. I thought it was because I'd seen his medication, and it wasn't adderall.

So he had a few secrets. It wasn't a big deal.

The next words I said had a lilt to them. "Why? You don't think we'd be great best friends?"

He did, no matter what his verbal answer would be. There were just times when you knew certain things, and this was one of them. Tweek and I fit together. He'd asked me to kiss him however long ago because there was a level of comfort between us that was natural. That was what friendship was: a natural relationship. And we had that. Token and I, Clyde and I, it all just made sense because it just _was_. Nothing had to be hard.

Swallowing thickly, the blonde nodded his head. He was scared, although I wasn't sure why. I didn't even think _he_ knew why. But that was okay. He could find out later when he was ready to know. Maybe when he got rid of his irrational fear of having to understand himself, because I was pretty sure he thought he was his own worst enemy and he didn't know how to fix it, how to fix himself.

Tweek was actually a little hard to pinpoint. The only thing he seemed to be comfortable with was that he was gay. Not comfortable in the sense that he would share that fact with the world, but comfortable in the sense that _he was gay_ and there was no reason to second guess it.

"If you think about it," because he looked like he needed the reassurance, "we've actually known each other for nine years or so. Exclude all of the times I harassed you and that's how long it's been." He didn't look like he was following me. He was distracted instead, and I figured it was due to the whole pill issue. How he'd slipped up and now I knew- but I'd always known.

It was hard not to when someone had as many noticeable issues as this kid. He twitched when he was nervous; he freaked out over nonexistent situations in his head; he was a paranoid mess because of things that weren't real, like the demon in my room; he had a speech impediment- and somehow, randomly, all of a sudden, he'd turn into a normal kid with no such problems. Adderall wasn't what saved him every single time, although I believed that he did have that as well.

Obviously he took medication, some stronger dose of something bigger than himself, to mute whatever was going on inside his head. He might've been able to keep himself a secret, but it was impossible to hide what you had no control over. It wasn't like I was going to bag on him or think less of him for popping pills.

I mean, dude, I popped pills all the time. And when I did it, it was considered illegal.

But what I had to remember was that Tweek wasn't as carefree as Token, Clyde, or myself. So in order too ease into the extinguishing of his stupid worry, for Tweek's sake, I started the exorcism by saying, "Sucks that I made you drop your meds, huh?" Yeah, that wasn't very ease-like. _Great going, bro._ My plan wasn't exactly fool-proof.

"Why did you have to bring that up?" His question was curt, cautious as he knew that I was about to place him in a predicament he wasn't going to be too fond of.

"Because we're best friends, now." I tried to sound flippant, like the blonde was just being paranoid as usual. Stopping at another red light, I thought it was a pretty foreboding halt in traffic. Hopefully Tweek wouldn't catch its ominousness. "You know. No secret left behi-"

"No, I don't." He spoke sharply, completely tuned into my guise. "I thought I made it pretty fucking obvious that what happened was supposed to be ignored. Why are you b-bringing it up?" Well, now he sounded a little crazy. He even had to inhale deeply to calm himself down.

Attempting to keep his cool for him, I help my hands up in mock surrender. "We can-"

"No, we're not." He hadn't even heard what I was going to say.

"I'm going to shove my fist in your mouth if you don't stop interrupting me." I was done pretending to be nice; they called me a douche bag for a reason.

Lips shifting downward, the blonde wrapped his arms around himself as I said, "I'm pretty damn good friends with a drug dealer, and so are you. We both know that wasn't adderall. So go ahead and tell me what it was, because it's pissing me off that you're being prude about it."

Tweek's eyes were accusatory, watching me with hesitancy as I stripped down to a raw state of force. "That's all it was. Adderall," he said stubbornly, warily. My mouth twitched.

A wee bit fed up, I pulled into my driveway and stopped the car. When Tweek tried to open the door, I locked them. He swung his head around, staring at me with wide, scared eyes. "Tell me why you have a ton of pills in your backpack." His jaw dropped as though I seriously hadn't seen him snag them one at a time from the snow.

The door handle jiggled again, and he grew frustrated when it wouldn't budge. "I don't know what you're talking about." God, he was a fucking idiot.

"I'm five seconds away from taking your bag and-" I didn't even have to finish my threat before he got the gist.

"Stop it!" The blonde threw another terrified look at me. His pupils were down to pin points, strangled down to a midget size by fear. Their crystallized green color was startlingly bright against the almost invisible black dots located in their middle. It almost hurt to look at them. "You didn't see anything, Craig. You saw _nothing_." He spat the words and, honestly, I was slightly hindered by their venomous bite.

"Stop being a pussy, Tweek." I felt like I was talking to Clyde all over again, that I could continue to talk calmly but it wouldn't be enough to stop the blonde's fist. Not that he'd do very much damage. "Or do you honestly think you're being sneaky when you randomly pop a pill and suddenly you're doped up on medication so you don't have to act crazy anymore?" He stared at me, and when he swallowed, it looked like he had to force himself to do it. "That was rude of me," I half apologized, but I couldn't do it completely because it had been the truth.

I was seriously somewhat worried when he just sat there and looked at me like I'd just explained a great epiphany, explained it in such simple terms that he understood it clearly. He made it appear as though he had taken my exaggeration of his condition to heart and believed me when I'd said the word 'crazy'. But that's all it had been: an exaggeration.

"You're not crazy," I corrected, but I didn't like the way his features contorted in misery, the way he suddenly didn't understand my explanation anymore. "You're just a little fucked in the head but..." He was shaking his head now, only growing further confused by the fact that I didn't think he was crazy. Did _he_ think he was crazy?

"I have a psychiatrist." Tweek's forced confession was stone cold. Every syllable stabbed me, specifically right in my black eye. Beneath the savagely spat information was a statement: This is what you wanted; this is what I _didn't_ want. The blonde was pissed that I'd pushed too far and I didn't blame him. "I see him every Friday because I don't know how to deal with myself." He focused his hardened gaze somewhere outside, but I thought he was peering into his mind instead. His lips were pursed into a drawn, tight line.

"I figured. How else would you get prescribed drugs?" Although I hadn't meant for it to happen, my question acted like a bullet and hit him straight in the gut. As though he couldn't control his breath, his chest started heaving. His hands turned into clenched fists, and his knuckles were so white that I thought perhaps they'd break through his skin.

Body terse with a great amount of tension, he asked through clenched teeth, "How did you know?" This part was going to suck, I thought, because it felt like this was the moment where I had to be brutally honest Craig Tucker when I just didn't want to be that guy right now.

Never before had I wanted to lie so bad. "It just fit."

It fit that he took drugs in a sorry attempt to fix himself. It fit that he had a psychiatrist to help encourage that sorry attempt. Everything fit, and for some reason, I didn't like being the one to tell him that, but at the same time it was just the thing that Craig Tucker would do. So I wasn't sure why I was harboring it like I'd just ruined this kid's entire life. Maybe it was because he was looking at me like I just did, even though before it had seemed like he wanted to be told he was crazy.

That was just another thing he didn't know, like, or understand about himself. This poor kid was just all over the place.

Since when was being friends so hard? Clyde and Token hadn't been this difficult.

I wanted to laugh because we were fighting about drugs, but I didn't because Tweek's eyes were unexpectedly glassy. Their pure green color was glittering under the mist of tears, further proving that the blonde was the innocent one in all of this. It was my fault that he was going to start crying, and I had never made anybody cry before, because Ruby and Clyde didn't count. His face was pitifully sweet, crumpled up in a way that reminded me a scared kitten.

The liquid from his tear ducts looked about ready spill over his lower lash line. He fought hard not to blink, because once he did, the tears would cascade like a cup of water one drop away from overflowing. Seeing his shaken expression was different from Clyde's crybaby exterior. I always laughed when I saw that the brunette was about to cry; however, right now I didn't feel like laughing. I didn't know what to do.

"Hey." My voice sounded too loud, like the growl of a lion in the tender bushes belonging to a fawn. The interruption of my voice only seemed to make things worse, for right after I spoke, the delicate blonde sniffled weakly. _Oh, come on. _Knitting my brows, I wet my lips and tried to figure out what to do. How were you supposed to comfort a kid when it was your own fault they were upset?

I tried again, but I couldn't make my voice go any quieter. "I'm sorry. I know that hurt... having to hear that." The bluntly honest side of me wouldn't allow a false lie to leave my mouth. I wasn't able to tell him I was sorry for admitting the truth, that his medication and doctor fit, but I could tell him I was sorry for having to be the one to say it.

He stared at me from across the car with a broken face. Both of his cheeks were streaked with thin lines of liquid, but he wasn't sobbing yet. The silent tears didn't help much, though. It kind of made things twice as bad and made me feel twice as guilty. "Alright." I threw the word out, caving under his stupid tears, and he jumped, hiccuping at the raise in my voice. "Go the fuck inside. I'm going to make you some coffee and you can take a nap on my bed or something. Just get out of here."

Fingering one of the buttons on my car door, I heard the familiar click of the locks, and ushered him out hastily. Without looking back, he scrambled into the cold, almost tripping as he wiped at his face, and stumbled up the porch steps that lead into my house. He was lucky that my parents weren't home- yet, at least. Not that they'd question him; they couldn't care less. He just wouldn't like it if we weren't alone.

After giving him a head start, I followed the blonde inside. He'd gone straight to my room, I noticed, as he wasn't in the kitchen or the living room. Enjoying the solitude, and I was sure Tweek was as well, I fired up the coffee machine my dad sometimes used and picked out the blackest, dankest brew we had. Tweek would want something strong.

While I waited, I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. Clyde had texted me, belligerently furious at my disappearance. What was even better was how much he despised me for eating his tacos. I smirked, feeling a bit more like the Craig who knew what the fuck he was doing, and texted the brunette a quaint, _I love you_. Taking a gander that he wouldn't reply, I set my phone on the counter and forgot about it.

No longer distracted I pretended to know what I was going to do when I met the blonde again. He'd be upset, so I'd give him his coffee. He'd feel better knowing that even without ordering me, he'd bossed me around, so he'd stop being so sad. In a better mood, he'd tell me to give him a massage and I'd do it. I'd probably kiss him, just because I seemed to need to do that whenever we hung out, and then we'd be a pair of simple best friends.

Except I ended up treading up the stairs, burning my hand on a mug of fresh coffee, knowing that things never worked out the way you planned, starting with that right there. I hadn't had it on my agenda to burn my hand, but here I was, fingers singed to a crisp.

Tweek's labored sniffles when I opened my door managed to make up for my crippled limb, though. He was still upset, so that was good. Right on task. Unfortunately, I hadn't pictured him curled up on my bed like a wounded heap of dead weight, so that was definitely a set back; but I took it as a good sign that he was still comfortable enough to use my room like it was his own, because I was pretty sure it took a hefty amount of comfort to drag a sweater out of my closet and use it as a blanket.

"I made you some coffee," I said when I started to feel creepy just standing there. He didn't move, even though I knew he heard me. My sweater quivered a little when he sniffled again. He sounded like a sick kitten. Stripe wasn't even running on his wheel. He was probably crying in his little dome because that's what little, upset Tweeks made animals want to do.

Maybe he needed to be coddled. Sometimes when I was upset, which I think the last time that was was when I was thirteen and couldn't get a boner like Clyde or Token or my other friends, my mom would be sickeningly sweet and it made me want to punch her and love her at the same time. If I acted that way toward Tweek, I'd end up having to get some type of reaction, and either one of those sounded just fine to me. I'd totally let him punch me.

Placing the coffee on the floor by my door, since I had nowhere else to put it, I left it there to be forgotten like my phone. As I started toward my bed, I made a sarcastic note that I was coming by saying, "Alright, sweetheart. Papa's coming over to patch things up." He didn't humor me, but that was okay. My very hilarious joke would reach him eventually. I just had a put a little more work into the act.

In order to do that, I crawled onto my bed with my lanky body and dropped down beside him with equal deadness so we'd match. His back was to me, my arm around his waist, and I had my head turned toward him so my face was lost in his frenzied locks of hair. He smelt homey and coffee-like, or maybe that was just the aroma at my door making its way around the entirety of my room. Perhaps the two different coffee scents were mingling with each other, getting to know one another, and the one from my mug was curious as to why the owner of his friend was so sad.

"Does Papa need to show you some love?" I mumbled, pressing my lips against the back of his head. Whenever my mom used to do that, it always helped appease the pain. I just hoped that pain over having no boner was somewhat equivalent to the pain of being a tad bit crazy.

One of the blonde's hands shot back and smacked me in the face, narrowly avoiding my bruised eye. Part of me, the part that was a man and could take the heat, wished he had gotten my eye.

"Coffee Bean doesn't want any lovin's? A'ight, it's cool. Maybe you need a make over." If I couldn't talk to his hurt side, then I'd get through to his gay side. "I can braid hair pretty good. Ruby likes me to do it for her when her and her friends have their little girl-parties." That was a bit of a fib. Ruby hated it when I touched her hair, but she did let me braid one of her friend's dog's fur one time.

I got a muffled response for that one, although he slapped at me again, so I didn't think speaking to his homosexuality was a productive antic. Exaggerating an exasperated sigh of defeat, I shuffled around and curled in on myself, much like the blonde was doing currently. The only difference was that he was in the way, and we were spooning now.

When he tried to shove me away I sighed again and wrapped my arm tight around his stomach. His back caved against my chest, molding against the contours of my torso. He breathed in, and I thought it was easier to follow the pattern of his own breath against both of us breathing out of sync. The backs of his knees were warm, and his belly was just the same. In his effort to scoot away, one of his ankles caught between mine. I took it as a very good sign when he decided to leave it there.

In my head I wondered if twins in the embryo laid like this at least once or twice. It was cozy when both bodies were draped together in the same shape, although the petite length of Tweek's might've been a factor in the cause of that. Because he was so short and small, he fit snug against me. When he sniffled, I tried to do it with him, but it was hard to do when you weren't crying yourself. I sounded more like I was trying to snort five lines of coke all at the same time.

He choked on a sudden spurt of laughter at my unforgivable attempt at sadness. I grinned at his weakening pity-party, and planted a small peck against the shell of his ear. In the attempt to slap me away again, I harnessed his wrist and kept his offending limb flat against his chest.

Before I could say anything, the blonde surprisingly spoke up. His voice was hushed with a ragged edge of worry. "I don't want to talk about what just happened. So, please don't bring it up." To keep me from replying, he quickly added, "I do want that coffee, though."

"You know," I began as I rolled away and started toward the mug on my floor. " I went to therapy for a while and I'm not being a bitch about it."

As planned, the blonde perked up and was watching me from over his shoulder as I made my way back onto the bed. He sat up, reaching for the cup in my hand. My sweater tumbled from his side, half of it falling into his lap. I pulled the cup out of range when his hands got too close, but he didn't like that, so he retracted his arms and laid back down. When he about to throw another hissy-fit, I sipped at the vile liquid without even attempting to keep myself from blanching.

Tweek was glaring at me, a foul look that resided in jealousy. Potent mixture in place, I puckered my lips and pushed it to the forefront of my mouth with my tongue. When a tinted beam of coffee zipped toward the blonde, he screamed and brought my clothing up to protect himself. When he was no longer in the line of fire, he viciously lowered it and flung the article at my head. The arm smacked me in the face before disappearing on my floor.

"Therapy is completely different from Psychiatry, dude." With the hesitancy of a wary mouse, the blonde inched his hand out in search for the coffee mug. "What did you go for?" I smirked, and allowed him the coffee as a prize for being cooperative.

"Anger management. I used to be an angry boy." After taking a drink, Tweek rested the lip of the mug against his mouth. I supposed he was comforted by the constant stench and steam. "That was about the only emotion I could ever muster and now I'm sapped, so I just sit here and react to nothing. It was the therapy that turned me into Craig Tucker," I fabricated, but the blonde didn't seem to care about my lame jibe. "Or not."

He sat there for awhile again like he had in the car, and then he said, "I don't want to talk about this."

"Yeah, well we're going to, so it sucks but it's happening." I let that sink in for a second before continuing. "You didn't go the last day of school. You were with me the entire time."

"Yeah, well I ditched so I could tutor you, so that sucked but it happened." He copied me _and_ got pissed off at me.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" He took another sip of coffee, shrugged his shoulders. "I'm about get pissed off at you."

"You're not the only one. Except I _am_ pissed."

"I don't want to be pissed off at you." Tweek's lips instantly pursed and a look like guilt overtook his features. He no longer had the strength to look me in the eye. His lower lip trembled, and for a quick moment I thought he was going to cry again, but instead he let out a huge, beastly sigh that was large enough to cause a collapse in his entire body. He fell back against my bed with the coffee resting in his hands on his stomach.

"I hate you so much," he whimpered with an expression that appeared genuinely pained. He rolled back over, seeming to heave himself as though it took a tremendous effort. Laying down one arm, he placed the mug onto the floor and I almost felt bad for it because that was always the place it kept ending up.

When the blonde came around again, he was weary and tired, like he hadn't slept for a few days and was on the verge of falling into unconsciousness. He extended an arm, and I hauled him forward until the only thing stopping him was his cheek against my shoulder, and even after that I had to grab his waist to support him. If I hadn't, he would've fallen into a slump. There was no way I could tell what was going on inside of his head, but whatever it was, the thought was corrupting him with exhaustion.

Surprising me—as much as was possible with a lame fuck such as myself—, the blonde swung an arm around my neck with a lazy _thwump_ where he clutched dangerously tight; tight enough to draw himself closer. He turned his face and was practically breathing into my neck when he finally settled, a second arm fused to the first.

He forced me to listen close when he eventually spoke, but the strain was rewarded with his whispered plea. "Stop being so goddamn cute." I felt like a dog who'd just heard the crunch of his owner's footsteps approaching the front door after a long day of best-friendless sleep and sad huddling at the water bowl. I was pretty much damn near this kid's every weakness, and I didn't even have to try.

"I'm being cute?" I asked, as innocently as my less than pure self could muster. Tweek didn't reply, most likely too embarrassed to speak after his little confession. But I took it as a compliment and a boost toward what I'd tease him with later when I felt like being a bigger asshole than I already was. "How am I being cute?" The blonde shook his head, fair tufts of hair tickling the underside of my jaw. Patting his hip consolingly, I repeated the question and dropped my upper half until it was flat against my bed. Tweek followed suit, slipping down my chest so that his head laid against my ribcage.

His arms were still wrapped around my shoulders, although it was his wrists that were beneath my head now. They felt slim and fragile, even to the nape of my neck. Shuffling my legs around, I bent them at the knee and locked the petite blonde between my thighs.

He heaved a great sigh, expelling the breath literally right onto my nipple. "Thanks for warming up my nip," I laughed. A strangled noise choked its way out of the blonde's mouth at my jibe. He removed a hand, curled it into a fist, and slammed it just underneath my ribs where the flesh was soft enough to absorb his blow. It hurt. Quite a bit, and I'm pretty sure my eyes stung with tears that would disappear after the initial sting was over.

"You make cute faces all the time," he admitted, maybe as a gift for how I took the brunt of his embarrassment in the form of a punch. "And your black eye makes you look like an abused puppy." Staring up at my ceiling, the blank, boring space that I found quite interesting, a smirk graced my features. A puppy comparison had never been used on me before. Asshole, dick, fucker, but not once an animal.

Oh yeah, that totally meant he had a crush on me. Animal comparisons? That was about as bad as it got. This kid was definitely getting in deep with this whole kissing thing. And then I remembered- _Awh, fuck._ I used animal comparisons on him, too. I then displaced the thought of Tweek wanting my nuts more than before after that realization. I just wasn't very skilled in the art of crushes, I supposed. You probably had to have one to understand it.

His hand unfurled and his delicate palm pressed softly against the pulsing area. His dainty hand caressed the very edge of my ribcage, and through the fabric of my shirt, warmth seeped into my skin. His fingers curved, but not in a way that was meant to scratch. It was more for the comfort, like the brush of a thumb.

I thought to myself that Tweek wasn't too bad at this. For never having been involved in- what? Platonic kissing? Whatever he wanted to call it, he was oddly caring like he knew just what to do. But relationships weren't something you could teach. Reactions—a touch, a kiss, or a nuzzle—happened upon instinct, so it wasn't like I could commend the blonde for being a fast learner, because he was a natural. Everyone was a natural. Even me, and I was an asexual, bonerless guy who'd probably never pass on the family name.

Sometimes people just sucked, though. Like supposedly Cartman couldn't kiss for the life of him.

Tapping out a non-sequential beat against the blonde's back, I suggested, "Massage?" His face moved against my chest, so I peered down to see that he was looking up at me. He nodded at my offer, but didn't make to move. "You've waited this long for your massage and this is how you want it?" I gestured down to his form laying between my legs. I could get one shoulder in the position that he was in and that was about it.

"Well, it's not like I know what to do." He squirmed with nervous anticipation. "H-how do you want me?"

"Oh baby," I snickered, turning his question into something sexual. A smidgen of light pink appeared on his cheeks. "I'd like you dirty-"

"_Okay_," the blonde interjected, turning my request into a finished statement that would never become reality. "That was _not_ what I meant, Craig." He buried his head back down against my chest, but not before I saw the sliver of a smile pass over his expression.

"What did you mean then?" I asked lightly, sitting up while forcing the blonde to do the same. He wound up curled in my lap, and if I was a puppy, then he was definitely a kitten. When I started plucking at his hair, he rolled around so that his head was resting on one of my thighs. Staring down at him, I noticed how pink his cheeks still were, how vulnerable he still was to my tormenting comments. "You need to grow some balls."

"I know," he frowned. Sighing as though he no longer felt the need to argue any points with me, like everything was just whatever now, he rolled away onto his stomach and stretched out along my bed just like a feline. "Do me," he ordered, throwing his arms above his head, fully aware of how that sounded but ignorant to its deviant undertone.

"If I didn't know any better," I mused, looking around for the oil I didn't even remember bringing up. It was sitting where the coffee used to be by my door. "I'd say you were growing a baby testicle."

"Just one?" Tweek laughed.

I chuckled, crawling off my bed to snatch the oil before coming back. Tweek was in the same position, face unseen as it was burrowed into my sheets. "Just a half, maybe one if you're lucky," I assured.

He scoffed, kicking his legs up to cross at the ankle in the air. "You smell nice." His voice was muffled by my bed, or who knows, maybe it was my bed he was talking to.

"What do I smell like?" Since I honestly had no clue. I couldn't smell myself, just the cologne I sometimes used, but that had a tendency to mix with my natural smell, so I still had no idea in the end. There had to be the stench of cigarettes in there somewhere, and that wasn't always the most aromatic scent.

The blonde hummed, obviously taking a deep inhale by the way his back and ribcage expanded. I took that moment to seat myself on his butt, a giant plop that knocked the breath out of him. I laughed mirthfully when he snapped his head around to glare at me. He was still blushing, so the action just looked highly embarrassed. It was somewhat cute how he tried so hard to be so tough. I hoped he didn't think he was doing a good job in attempting to come across as impenetrable, because he wasn't.

His eyes dropped and paused, taking in my parted legs surrounding his slender hips and backside. They lingered there, just staring, and there wasn't much else to look at so I didn't know why he was taking so long. He even blinked, but that didn't change the direction of his vision. I wasn't going to let him admire our provocative position for an insurmountable length of time though, so I placed my hands along the small of his back and gingerly fingered the hem of his shirt.

Watching, I caught the speedy act of when his eyes shot up, to which I quirked my brows a few times just to tease him. His breath caught and he quickly turned his head away, most likely so I wouldn't see his newly brightened blush. But I knew it was there.

"You smell like cigarettes," he mumbled slowly, almost as though he were sad, "and vanilla... and mint, I think. You smell like a man, too." _Well, I sure hope so._

"Cigarettes smell like shit," I informed, chuckling despite myself, because it was _now_ that I knew the blonde had a definite interest in me. He paid attention to the way I smelled. That was all the proof I needed.

"The mint and vanilla and man kind of wash it up, so it's okay."

For the sake of the conversation, I leaned over his lithe body and shoved my nose against the nape of his neck. As I took a large sniff, practically tasting his rich, coffee-flavored aroma, I gripped the edges of his shirt and dragged it up the expanse of his back. His slender shoulders tensed when I slid my hands beneath his bunched top and started to work it over his arms and head. I leaned back to say, "You smell clean. Like home and coffee," and slipped his shirt right off the bed.

_Like home._ That was scent in Tweak Bros. It was the smell I'd tried so hard to define, but couldn't place, and yet when I got a whiff of Tweek, the word was right there. It was just a comfortable aroma, one that made you want to sleep all cozy-like and have good dreams.

"I bathe regularly," he defended, for some reason finding it necessary to prove my keen sense of smell correct.

"Most of the human population does," I teased.

He ignored me when he said, "What's that stuff called again?" I wondered if he didn't want to say oil because of the position we were in. He was shirtless, I was straddling him, we had a lubricant substitute, and it pretty much looked like he was about to get it up the butt.

"Tutti Fruity or something like that." After looking at its actual name—Forbidden Fruit—I deemed it close enough and didn't try to fix my mistake.

Leaning back over, I held the open capped bottle to his nose. He hovered over the lip, allowing the citrus, fruity scent to waft over his senses. "You're an asshole."

"But it smells good." When he didn't agree, I searched for an answer. "Right?"

"Sure," he grumbled, turning his head away so he wouldn't be reminded by the smell that I was correct.

Grinning, I closed the lid and tossed it to the side. Propping myself up on my knees, I lifted my lower half from his behind, reached down, and grabbed the belt loops of his pants. They were tight, so I was just guessing that if I tugged hard enough they'd give and inch down. When I started pulling, the blonde spasmed and tried to fling himself around.

"W-what are you doing?" He cried, too freaked out to be smart enough to push me away with his hands. He struggled with his hips instead. It was funny watching him squirm around like he had no arms or legs.

"You wear your pants up to your fucking belly button, dude. That's not much of a massage if half of your back is covered."

Blushing at his quick thought that I wasn't about to strip him naked, he settled down and sunk back against my bed. "I don't wear my pants up to my belly button," he mumbled.

I tried to pull his pants a little lower again now that he wasn't making it difficult, but he was acting like dead weight, so they still wouldn't budge. His jeans were about as stubborn as he was. "You wear them like an old man. Lift your hips a little," I instructed, smacking the side of his butt for emphasis.

As he raised his hips, his back arched. My attention was a bit distracted by the dip his spine made, how the dent in his lower back became a deep depression. The line of his spine was like a groove, as though he no longer had bones there. I wanted to trace the shadowed indent with my fingers, to see his fragile back arch further. I'd never caught myself lost in such a distraction, and almost missed it when Tweek said, "You wear your pants like a whore."

"Yeah, because half my junk is hanging out at all times." But I wasn't really paying attention to what I was saying. I was more fixated on how low the rim of his jeans was dropping. I stopped their descent when they started to curve over the lift of his rump. They just barely concealed the start of his cheeks, and I wondered how mad he'd be if I forced him to moon me. "Are you even wearing underwear?" I was honestly a bit surprised that I hadn't encountered anything on the way down. All that was staring up at me was the unblemished, pale skin of his surprisingly long, lithe back.

Tweek giggled, but I figured it was a nervous noise since his butt was still sticking up. "Uhm... no?" He tried for nonchalance; his next excuse butchered that attempt completely. "It's just that these pants are a bit tight so I don't want b-boxers or something to get in the way, y-you know?" I actually understood that completely, although the thought of someone as innocent and naive as Tweek wearing nothing underneath their jeans was a bit on the scandalous side.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises?" For a second time, I spoke without actually thinking. The words were just there, while something else was on my mind entirely. The hands on his belt loops left their station and my fingers pressed firmly against his waist, half on his jeans, half off. They curled over and under to the front of his hips. His skin there contained enough heat that the temperature licked at my digits.

His hips looked dainty in the palms of my hands, and I couldn't stop staring, and I knew why Tweek had just laid there and watched but a moment ago. Had I known this I would've let him ogle over the same picture for as long as he wanted, because that's all I wanted to do right then.

But instead I pushed down and lowered his bottom half back onto the bed, just now noticing the speed of which the blonde's breath was coming.

He made a few noises, like he was about to start talking but couldn't figure out what to say because all it would be was anxious chatter. "U-uhm. What uh... What do you wear? Like, boxers or something?" I smirked, digging my thumbs into his skin to rub depressions in the form of circles. My fingers curved against his hip bones, trapped between his body and my bed.

"Boxer-briefs." I found myself a seat on his butt again.

"O-oh." He laughed humorlessly.

I found it strange how it was actually kind of hard to detach my hands from around his slim waist. My internal struggle was slightly amusing, and being able to laugh at my stupidity made it easier for me to release him.

Laying to the side was the bottle of oil. I picked it back up, opened the cap, and squeezed a steady drizzle into the bowl of the palm of my hand. Instantly, the area around us became fogged by the smell of cut oranges and squeezed lemons. Turning the direction of my cupped hand, I let the excess oil drip onto the creamy expanse of Tweek's back.

The way he visibly shivered at the droplets cascading against his skin caused my stomach to clench. Oh yeah, this kid was definitely about to get the best massage of his life.

Rubbing my hands together I lathered both palms with the oil, and started by raking both of them down either side of Tweek's back. It was interesting to feel the contours of his torso, the lift of his shoulder blades and the individual dips of each rib bone. His skin was smooth, and I had to wonder just how much was the oil's doing. The actions of my hands were so simple and easy, gliding seamlessly along his body.

_Damn._ His back wasn't just long. It was_ long_- all emphasis included. Like, he had an irregularly lengthy torso and he hid it with his grandpa pants. This kid was descended from cats, I swear.

Fluttering back up, my fingers cupped the curve of his shoulder. I worked my thumbs into the juncture where his shoulder blades began, squeezing my fingers in time with the rubbing. The blonde turned his head, resting one cheek against the mattress. A delicate sigh blew between his lips.

In my hands, his dainty muscle turned soft. My mouth spread into a conceited grin. Either I was great at this, or everything I did made this kid melt. Ego leaning toward the latter, I dipped my hands around his sides and dragged them down at a leisurely pace until his hips were again in my grip. My hands liked to hold his protruding bones, they liked to touch him. I felt like I couldn't control them, that I didn't even want to.

It made me think about what Tweek would think if he were the one to give the massage. The grin on my face morphed into something cunning, and my fingers dug firm lines into his skin across his back as my thoughts grew sinister. The blonde wouldn't be able to harness himself if he got a hold of my body. For that reason alone, I was urged by my own amusement to suggest a massage from him later.

I'd allow him a few more moments of peace before I dropped the bomb. The intensity of my own mirth in the confines of my eyes followed the motion of my hands. Palms pressing snug to his back on either side if his spine, I ran a steady line up to the nape of his neck. He breathed deeply, sinking into my bed while my fingers sunk into his skin.

"You know," my fingers kneaded his shoulders, so pliable to my actions, "Clyde's pudgy like a pillow. You're bony like an African child." But he really wasn't that bad. I just had a thing for teasing the hell out of him.

"Jackass. Just do your job." He was so comfortable he didn't even have the strength to fight back. How boring. My favorite.

"My mom ran into your mom. I guess you two bare a similar resemblance." The smell of lemons was starting to make my nose tickle. Maybe I'd used too much.

"R-really?" And then quickly he added, "About our moms running into each other. Not us looking alike. I already know that."

"Yep. Even left me a sticky note on my car it was so important."

Reminding myself of importance, I made a mental note to slip into some spiffy clothes and make a quick appearance downstairs before the night was over. My dad would be pissed if I didn't greet his work buddies, supposedly the same families I'd be working with myself one day. Big firecrotch just didn't understand that I wasn't into his business.

"Oh," another reminder, "my dad also called you my boyfriend and said that he knows you love him."

The blonde never answered, so I did as previously told and continued my duty as his masseuse, but that sounded feminine, so maybe I was a masseurs. The only sign that he'd even heard me was the way his body tensed for the beat of a second. And then the lazy motions of my massage got to him.

As my hands played across his back, I noticed there were a lot of bones that made up his delicate body, and I felt like I was touching all of them. I didn't know how to find knots or know when the pressure was too rough or too light, so I thought I'd go by the way he reacted, except he wasn't doing much. His breath was calm, and it almost felt like I could mold him into any shape I wanted, just like clay.

Circling both palms over his shoulder blades, I picked up his quiet hum under the midst of my actions. It was a silent noise, almost like an audible sigh. That was the reaction I was looking for and would listen to. Rocking forward, my hands pressed harder and my clockwise motions grew stronger. Another encouraging noise blew from between his lips, a pitch louder and longer than the last. His blades picked up heat where my attention was concentrated. I shifted my hands, dragging them down to the base of his spine.

My thumbs ground into the small of his back while I wiggled backwards. I situated myself on his upper thighs, and smoothed my fingers over the area that had attracted my interest before: the naked section of the rise leading to his ass. It was a petite lift, since Tweek didn't have much of a butt, but I guessed it was cute, and that was why it allured me.

The oil had soaked into his skin, scenting it and smoothing it. The elongated canvas of his back was oddly enticing, something I just couldn't bring myself to dismiss. I bent over his small form, and pressed my forehead between his protruding shoulder blades. Whether it was his flesh or mine that was warmest, I didn't know, but my face was quickly smothered with an intoxicating heat. The introduction to the temperate sensation caused me to realize how Tweek's trim body felt between my legs.

Thighs unconsciously hugging him closer, my hands dipped and spread against the start of his jeans. It earned a whispered groan, of which my ears practically wallowed in. Somewhere inside of me I wanted to hear more.

A coarse trail was drawn when my hands traveled back up to his shoulders, and more light sounds met my ears as the squeeze of my hands grew less tender against his slight muscle. My breath met my face when it bounced off the blonde's skin, and I retracted my head to keep from falling for his body's weird temptation. I wanted to run my mouth along his spine. He was covered in bitter oil, though, so that helped.

Only able to rein myself in for so long before his is plethora of breathy grunts honestly began to get to me, a crack ruptured my resolve. His quietly voiced noises were all ever-changing, an array of different notes and sounds, all subtle and each one just as clear and drawn out as the last. They were innocent and irked a feeling inside of me. I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go with my imagination, but I knew I didn't want this to be a massage any more.

Slanting forward, I brought up a hand to brush the strands of his hair away from his ear. His fair locks caught between my fingers, picked up the excess oil, and stuck together to stay where I pushed them to the side. His eyes were closed, oblivious, when I ran my tongue along the shell of his ear. Where my chest tickled softly against his back, I felt his breath stunt.

Tentatively, he blinked his eyes open. They quickly flickered up, trying to find me. I kissed the small area just behind his lobe, nuzzling my nose into his messy tendrils of hair. He smelled extra clean now with all of the citrus lingering around his skin. My fingers tightened where they held his shoulders, slipping down his arms where they rested beside his head. His flesh goose-bumped, pin-prickling all the way down his body.

"W-..." He lost his voice when my tongue left a wet trail down his jawline, but that was alright. I didn't want him to say anything. He always had to question stuff, and honestly, there was no point in doing so when things were obvious. "What are you doing?"

"What does it feel like?" I asked, tracing his forearms all the way to his hands. My fingers slid between his joints, and pressed into his palms. His breath was coming much faster.

He struggled to move. "Flip m-me over. I feel like you're about to rape me."

Snickering, I lifted my weight to my knees, allowing him room to move but not the hands to work with. He muttered inaudible blurbs as he twisted around to his back. The moment his stomach was face-up, I sat back down, trapping his thighs once again. Our hands were tangled at the wrists above his head, and I kind of liked that.

My eyes were darting, shifting erratically from place to place as though trying to catch every detail of the blonde's surprised face. Brows arched high, his doe eyes were wide, lashes long and contrasting greatly against the dark backdrop of his eyelids. His cheeks were painted pink, and his lips were parted so that he could breath deeper for his nose just didn't seem to get enough oxygen to his lungs. When he swallowed, his throat tightened.

I felt my lips twitch, and I was pretty sure I was smirking, but I was paying more attention to Tweek's mouth than my own. Tilting downward I pressed a chaste against his forehead where his hair was somewhat getting in the way. I pushed the intervening locks away with my nose because I didn't want to detach our intertwined hands. His cheeks were darker when I pulled away.

The blonde diverted his eyes, going as far as to turn his face away, when I made to look at them. He pursed his lips, and I thought that it made him look less vulnerable. It was probably just what he was going for. "Stop being so cute," he grumbled. "It's weird."

"It's weird?" I laughed. Knowing that his brain, or subconscious, or possible attraction, was interpreting my actions as 'cute' fueled my desire to tease him. Or maybe I was a cute guy in general. Sexy would've been more of a compliment, though.

"Yeah," Tweek further stated. "I should not be thinking you're cute right now." His eyelids fluttered when I kissed his blushing cheek, and he scrunched his nose when I went for the other.

"What if I think you're cute, too? Is that weird?" His fingers involuntarily tightened against mine.

"Stop it." His chest stifled, having hiccuped on a breath. "You're making me want to say no."

"You don't actually think it's weird," I cooed, applying a raspberry against his cheek. He laughed, and the sound shook my eardrums with a pleasant vibration. "This is probably the best night of your life, isn't it? So don't try to lie." The blonde scoffed, tossing his head back to get away from my noisy mouth.

"Your massage _sucked_."

"Really?" I inquired, stroking my lips across his cheek only stop at his ear. My breath must've tickled by the way Tweek shivered in response to their featherlight touch. Arching closer, my chest pressed flush against his and I growled against the shell of his ear, "Is that why you were moaning?"

He gasped and squirmed, attempting to break away from me. Our chests bumped and brushed. "Don't say that," he begged, exhaling a harsh breath. It felt like steam against my neck.

A leg of his, thin enough to slither between my encompassing thighs, surrounded my side and his foot smacked my ass. "Oh baby." My sarcasm was apparent in the monotony of my voice. "Somebody's feeling kinky tonight."

"I don't think so, Tim." Bringing my head back, I stared down at him with a sense of goofy amusement. He saw my face and explained, "Sorry. My dad's been saying that a lot. I guess it's catching on."

"And this is the dad I still have yet to meet?"

Tweek rolled his eyes. "Way to make it sound like we're getting married."

"I don't think so, Tim." He stared at me pointedly, annoyed at having been repeated. "You're like a woman, you know that?" Before more bullshit could leave my mouth, Tweek cut in.

"You can shut up now."

"Just like a woman," I observed.

"With all the complaining you do, I think it's the other way around." When I pouted, he laughed, ridiculously enthused and proud for finally inflicting a harmful insult on me.

Sticking my tongue out at him, I waggled it around, waiting for him to notice that I wasn't being childish. He stared for a moment, then gave me another tart stare. I took it as a sign that he defined the scene as immature. As the time extended and my loitering tongue had yet to reel back into my mouth, he got curious.

"I don't get it." His eyes narrowed at my wet appendage, and when his features softened into an odd sort of epiphany, he drawled out, "_Oh_." Then his expression contorted in displeasure. "You're so weird, dude." But he was smiling, and even stuck his own tongue out to swipe against mine. It was warmer than usual when they connected due to mine collecting cold from sitting out. _That sounds pretty gross. _Content, I returned my tongue to its home.

_"We know what you meant," Clyde started._

_"I don't." I admitted. "What is Tweek good at?"_

_Stoley seemed less shaken now that he knew he had no reason to be mortified. "Just things that most people cant. Like he can touch his nose with his tongue, and wiggle his ears. He can do this awesome tongue roll thing. It's like a wave. He can lick his elbow, and his arms are double jointed..."_

I started at the memory, staring down at the blonde ambitiously. "Touch your tongue to your nose."

His eyes narrowed in on my own. "How did you know I could do that?"

"Stoley spilled the beans. Right after the gang rape. He said it was a thank you gift for being a team-sport."

"Oh my God. Shut up about that, dude," Tweek giggled. It was like I wasn't even holding him down anymore. He was so comfortable, he was resuming a casual conversation despite our positions. I couldn't quite bring myself to do the same, though. Whenever I caught sight of our interlocked hands I remembered that I had him between my legs, that he wasn't wearing a shirt, that the oil on his skin was rubbing off on my bedsheets.

The blonde stuck his tongue back out, and this time it curved backwards. He went cross eyed, watching as his own muscle reached out and pressed lightly against the tip of his little pixie nose. It was a fluid motion, and I wondered if he'd taught himself or if he was born able to do that. Tonight I seemed to be a distracted boy, though, because my line of sight was following the intricate veins branching out along the underside of his tongue.

Whatever side it was, I didn't care. I just knew that it was his tongue and I liked it.

He gasped, hands jerking in my grasp, when I traced a soft line up the center of his tongue with my own. Instantaneously, he snatched it back and clamped his mouth shut, staring up at me in accusation like I'd tricked him. He'd tricked himself, though. It wasn't like I'd been expecting to do that.

"You should get the web of your tongue pierced," I suggested, more for me than himself. Honestly, if he did that- it would turn me on, and I didn't know why. Since when did I have a thing for piercings? Since when did I have a thing for anything? I wanted to laugh at the ludicrously of my thoughts. His cheeks speckled crimson, and after that, I couldn't picture him with any kind of piercing, which was rather disappointing. I pushed for it anyways. "I'll do it with you if you're too much of a pussy."

"I-... I don't think that's going to happen, dude." But I could see his mind tinkering around with the idea in the quizzical gleam of his eye. That spark was enough to satisfy me.

"Show me your tongue wiggle." Because I didn't know what else to call it.

"My tongue wiggle?" Tweek repeated. "Oh- _oh_." He cleared his throat and looked away, crimson stains remaining on his face. "Kevin told you about that, too? It looks weird. And stupid. I don't want to."

"Too bad. You're doing it," I ordered. "It's cool, man. All I can do is twist my tongue, and that's lame."

Seemingly inspired by my somewhat-compliment, he opened his mouth. When his tongue _literally_ started doing the wave, I scrunched my nose up and started laughing. He couldn't help but smile, stopping for a brief second to gather some control, before wiggling his tongue in a way that blew my mind.

I did _not_ know that tongues could do that. It was like an earthquake on the top flat of his muscle. Nerves that I would never be capable of controlling where bending and swerving and dipping and it was _awesome_. I was jealous. _I_ wanted to do that with _my_ tongue. Leave it to the quirky kid to get the cool tricks. All boring Craig Tucker got was a beautiful penis. Life wasn't fair.

"Do that against my tongue, dude!" This was the first time in a long time where I'd gotten so excited. This was like Clyde when his mom made tacos, or Kenny when he got free alcohol. This was Craig getting to feel an earthquake on somebody's motherfucking tongue.

Tweek giggled, eyes in tight crescent moons of appreciation. His tongue protruded a bit farther, pausing its motions as a sign of permission. My tongue fell against his.

At first his appendage rolling and shifting against mine was an odd ticklish feeling. It was like fingers prodding at my feet; some there, some not. Spider legs. Parts of his tongue were pressing, folding, against mine and in the quickest beat they were gone, only to reappear in a different area. Then it was like a waterbed, and I fucking loved waterbeds. The movement was slow, languid, more like a placid ocean wave.

The lure of the lazy motion intrigued me, coaxing the nerve endings on my tongue to respond to the bait of his own. It flickered against his, not actually moving just yet, but shifting. At the minute movement, his wrists and fingers twisted in my hold. My stomach churned at his insistence. I told myself that he'd been sitting like that for a while so it was about time that I let him go, but to lose a tiny piece of my control over him made me a tad reluctant. It was weird, because I never thought of myself as having a control complex. Interesting.

When I released his hands, they went straight for my neck, wrapping around my shoulders loosely. His head lifted to move more firmly against my mouth, and our tongues melded further together. He stopped his strange tongue trick, choosing instead to lick and rub. I tilted my head, his arms tightened, and I had no idea how I'd forgotten the presence of his freed leg, but it made itself known by pressing against my side.

In one swift motion, I caved to my left and rolled us over. Tweek spun, landing safely on top of me despite his cry of fear and disbelief. He was still between my legs, and I found that I liked him on top even better than beneath. The fit was more snug, his body more accessible, and I wrapped my arms around his back and kneaded into the still present oil coating his bare skin.

"We've never been in this position before," I stated, a teasing lilt in my tone. My lips pecked his, which were open a hair to release a quiet breath. He watched me, blonde brows knit in a look that resembled concern. His arms held him steady on either side of my torso, but he didn't look like he had the strength to keep himself afloat for long, although I didn't think it was a stunt in brawn making him weak.

"Like we've ever been in any position," he mumbled self-consciously, and I helped him lower himself with the weight of my arms across his back.

"I could list a few." My brows quirked and he blushed. "Like the other day when I picked you up-"

"Don't _talk_ about it, man. That's embarrassing!" He smacked his palm against my cheek without much vigor, before promptly dropping his entire body on top of me. The air left my lungs, but I quickly sucked it back in. The blonde tended to do that: jump on me like he really did weigh nothing but one hundred pounds. All of my jibes at his weight were just that though, jokes, and sometimes he could surprise me with his random glomping.

_Like the other day when I picked him up_- except it hadn't really gone like that. He'd actually made a run for me without my knowledge, jumped, flew into me, knocked me off balance, almost made me fall. It was pretty much a near death experience, yet I still caught him and made him give me a kiss for it. That was about as diverse as our positions got.

"Oh, by the way." Here it goes. My lips twisted up coldly. "You're giving me a massage sometime." If I could read minds, I would've read his right then. I wanted to know why his cheeks turned rosy. I wanted to know why he licked his lips. I wanted to know why his vision blurred.

"Haha," he mumbled, cheek smashed against my chest. "...Hey."

"Hmm?" I toyed with his hair, getting each individual strand all nice and oiled up so he'd have a fun time washing his hair when he got home.

"Why does your breath smell like tacos?"

I decided to answer him with a quote from _The Office_, a TV series that I knew the blonde was well aware of. If he watched the newest season, he'd understand. "I decided to stay home. Eat a bunch of tacos in my basement."

Quite quickly, he picked it up. "You can't air out a basement," he added. "And taco air is heavy. It settles at the lowest point."

I smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

You are quite lovely today. Thanks for getting this far with me, and keep in mind that this chapter is in **Tweek's POV**.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Step three was_ not_ specifically mentioned in the last chapter. It happened behind the scenes because I'm trying to switch up how these steps play out. :P If it's too confusing, I can go in and change it.

* * *

><p>"Thomas, I'm being dead serious. Stop laughing," I ordered through the phone. My best friend didn't listen and continued to laugh at my situation regarding Craig. The guy was loony- <em>dead fucking weird<em>. Thomas thought it was adorable, though. I could tell by the way his laughter chimed with a pleasant note.

"Okay." He tuned his giggling down a fair notch. "I'll pretend to be serious this time. Tell me again what happened."

Frowning, I answered. "He sang to me. Like, _legitimate_ singing." Recalling the instance, I retold the moment as I saw it plague my memory reel. "He got all awkwardly close, put his chin on my shoulder, and sang _right_ into my ear." Except I didn't explain the gravel-like tone of his octave voice or how the shell of my ear had warmed under the influence of his breath, even though I recalled it perfectly. "Weird songs, too. Like shit from _School of Rock_. You know the movie with Jack Black?"

On the other line, the golden blonde stifled a snicker. He hummed an affirmative. "His favorite is Legend of the Rent," I continued. "I know it _by heart_ he sang it so much, dude. He even sounded out the instrument solos, _exactly_ like Jack Black. He's a nerd." And here came the part that got Thomas the first time around. "He made me sing back up. Seriously, he threatened me when I didn't want to."

All I heard was laughing. This time it was loud and obnoxious, a sound full of rippling waves that practically busted my ear drum. I had to hold the phone away, scowling at it in the hopes that Thomas could see it. By the ruckus coming through the speaker, he didn't.

"Oh man," he wheezed. I imagined him clutching his chest as a form of release from his gasping hilarity. "Okay, okay. Whew, alright. We're good. We're good, Tweek." I didn't appreciate his reassurance as I didn't find it as funny. And the horrible problem was that it wasn't because Craig singing to me wasn't humorous- Jesus, I wanted him do it all the time just so I could laugh at him; it was because I didn't want to share the quality time I spent with Craig with my best friend. I knew that my thoughts were unfair, but I didn't want to encourage Thomas's plot to get the niorette.

There was no excusable reason as to why I was being selfish. Honestly, I was a hypocrite for being so opposed to Craig when it came to Thomas, yet when it came to _me_ I liked him just fine. My thoughts were scattered enough when I was in the seclusion of my own company, and they only seemed to get further disfigured when I talked or was with my friend. But when I hung out with Craig, everything pretended to be peaceful. My riled brain would simmer down to the point where I didn't even have to think anymore. Being with Craig just _was_.

I'd forget all about Thomas... obviously. Had he been in my mind I wouldn't have betrayed him. It was Craig's fault, though. He tempted me in the most horrible way and I was falling ill to exactly what Thomas was a victim of; what everyone was stupidly a victim of. Nobody could have Craig, not only because he was asexual but because he was the type of person who would always be alone and would never have a need for company.

That was the way he was going to live and I wanted what I couldn't have. I wanted to be a part of that.

And then I'd remember The Plan and everything would bombard me like an avalanche. That stupid, stupid plan. Part of me believed that it was because of my best friend's idiotic idea that I—I internally winced at this revelation—that I was such a dick to Craig.

I'd get mad at him when he teased me, probably sometimes for no reason. Then I'd do things like- Oh God. My memory backtracked, trying to rummage through my collection of the past for any moments when I flirted- _especially_ after throwing a tantrum. I was a bipolar _monster_. Sweet Jesus, Craig had an obvious reason to think I was crazy. I bitched at him countless times, I made him take off my boots, I manipulated him into giving me a massage. Why did he take my attitude? Was he an _idiot_?

And then I'd caved and talked him into _kissing_ me. Thomas could never _ever_ know. Not to mention the fact that the whole kiss idea had occurred to me long before I had asked for it in person. My bad seed of an idea had been sprouting since- fuck my life. The thought had always been there. Who was I kidding? Craig was an attractive beast of a man and for all I knew I've wanted to kiss him since third grade.

This was supposed to be for _Thomas_. Why was I jeopardizing his happiness? I was betraying my best friend and for what? So I could get my first kiss? Well, thanks to Craig _I_ _already had that_, so why wasn't I stopping this- this kissing stuff?

I was a horrible person. I didn't deserve the title of Best Friend. How was I going to live with myself? If Thomas ever found out I would have to fake my death, create an alias, live by a different motto. Move towns, maybe to San Francisco where all the gays were accumulated. I'd have to shave my head, never drink coffee again, get a tattoo to blot out my most noticeable features like my bigass eyes.

No, I needed to talk to Dr. Norris. Today was Wednesday, two days away from the closing of the second week of Winter Break. Also two days away from my permanent Friday-appointment with my psychiatrist. The permanent Friday-appointment I had ditched two weeks ago- but only to tutor Craig so he could pass the first semester of his senior year! It was a reasonable excuse.

I just had to make it until tomorrow and then I could figure out the possibility of me having to rearrange my entire future, supposing Dr. Norris would tell me to be a good best friend and tell Thomas the truth. Tweek Tweak might just be done for. Come tomorrow I could be John Doe.

Damn it. I was just starting to like myself, too. That was Craig's fault also. He was getting my hopes up, making me believe that I held some sort of meaning. Why else would he kiss some crazy fucker like me?

Fuck, I needed my psychiatrist _now_. I didn't want to call him, though. Even if I could. He probably had more important patients to help, people that needed to be talked out of suicide or something equally infinite. I wasn't suicidal, not yet. If Thomas ever found out, _then_ I would need consolation about the importance of my life.

How did I even manage to put myself in a position like this? For someone as superstitious and careful as me I hadn't thought it possible. There was no way I could dig myself out, either. Not without shoving myself down deeper. I could never take back that first kiss or any of the others. The _multiple_ others.

Did I really even want to? That was the scariest question. Perhaps even the most foreboding.

Finally, I realized that there was silence on the opposite end of the line. "T-Thomas?" He didn't answer, and the connection came across as dead.

Removing the phone from my ear, I clicked the end call button only to see that it had already ended. The golden blonde was either very impatient—which he wasn't if his waiting so long for Craig was any sort of proof—or I had been in a thought-hole for longer than necessary. A text message was waiting for me with an answer. Two, actually.

One was from Thomas: _I think our connection broke or something. Don't worry about calling back, I'm going out with my parents. Stupid lunch ): I still think you should've agreed to come with us. Anyways, just be sure to get started on step four. (:  
><em>

Yeah, because step three hadn't been good enough. As instructed, I had mentioned Thomas countless of times, _just like he wanted_, and each detail had been immaculate. Who would've thought that Craig would be the type of person to pass up hints like: Thomas likes tall guys; Thomas's Tourette's is actually pretty cute once you get used to it; Thomas has a pretty nice shlong.

_I did! I fucking called that shit._

The other was from Craig: _If you're not awake, then you better wake the fuck up. I'm coming over to get you and we're going to get Stripe a new add-on to his home (:_

All of my previous thoughts stashed themselves away to some forgotten place in my brain that I didn't want to find ever again. And they stayed there, much to my chagrin. I received another text from him:_ I'm so excited. He's going to love it. _Unintentionally, I smiled.

I was going to go ahead and admit it: Craig could be cute when it came to Stripe. But that was like a well known fact among everyone so it didn't mean anything to me personally. Really, it didn't.

He didn't even call Stripe's cage a _cage_; he called it a home. _His_ room belonged to _both_ of them. It was sweet and made my heart ache because I've never seen somebody care so much about something so small. In a physical sense, that is. It was obvious how large of an emotional impact Stripe had on the noirette.

Texting back a quick _That's fine_, I noticed the time his first text had been received. Craig was probably already minutes away. Jesus, how long had I been thinking over an uninhabited phone call for? Embarrassed, which was even more ridiculing because I was flustered while alone, I scrambled off my bed and tugged on a famished, hooded sweater. The weather was less furious today so not much protection was needed.

Sadly, I hit a roadblock in my quick get-up when I couldn't find my boots. Actually, I had plenty of boots but not the ones that I wanted to wear. My mood began to flare when I pushed aside the pairs I didn't care about at the moment in search for the ones I did. Double checking, they still weren't there. I was peeved as I threw on some of Thomas's Toms, but I guessed it was fine because they matched his pants with the rolled up hems, of which I was wearing as well. What wasn't fine was how I'd lost my boots. I never lost anything.

At the front door, the bell rang continuously. Irritated at Craig's annoying antic, I started toward the house's entrance with an agitated beat to my steps. At the door, I flung it open and slapped his hand away from the bell. He stared down at me like he suddenly wasn't as excited as he had been and said, "You're already pissy."

"Yeah, well I cant find my boots." And he looked good today. God damn it, he looked _really_ good today.

He was leaning against the wall, appearing much too cozy in front of my house as though he lived there himself and had just forgotten the key so he was waiting around until someone came home. Dark jeans accentuated the length of his legs through their slim fit, and their rolled hems allowed for a mild attention to be brought to a pair of worn, ebony boots. A skinny leather jacket clung to the wide shape of his torso, overlaying a plain black shirt. His look was very simple but sleek. He reminded me somewhat of one of those old punk rock anarchists, except I didn't think Craig was a 'punk rocker' or for anarchy.

I envied how he made his look so masculine. I mean, we were both wearing rolled pants but mine were just flat-out _gay_. His skin looked washed out due to all the opaque shades, and yet his pale complexion was an attractive contrast. He had a way about knowing exactly what to wear to make his eyes stand out. My heart beat hard when I focused on their intense color, so much like the snow piling upon the ground. It shouldn't be natural, their pale blue irides.

When he smirked down at me, his lips stretched with an impossible amount of fluidity. "The ones you left in my car?" Relief plowed through me as he reached around to pull me against his chest. My arms moved of their own accord to tangle around his neck. It was now a reflexive gesture, our hugs. I liked them, because the stretch I had to pursue in order to successfully hug him felt amazing. It was just one of those stretches that made everything perfect for about five seconds.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, exasperated. He shrugged, leaning his head back to align his mouth with my forehead. The warm press of his lips made me shiver. Involuntarily, my arms tightened around his shoulders. I realized that he liked to do that. Kiss me on my forehead. It probably wasn't okay that I liked it too.

"I knew you'd get them eventually. Maybe I wanted to fuck with you, just a little." I pouted, glaring up at him. _I would've told you if you had left your boots in my car. _Even though I didn't have one. "No pouting. You're not allowed to be pissy anymore." He kissed the tip of my nose which had already turned a bit frosty from the weather. His lips warmed it up before leaving it to be assaulted by the cold once again.

"I wouldn't have to be pissy if you'd just be nice to me for once." I tilted my head up, knowing exactly where I wanted those lips to go next.

Craig raised his brows in a silent challenge. "I'm always nice to you. You wanna see me be mean? I don't have to kiss you." He blew teasingly against my parted mouth, and I felt the cold air hit my teeth. I wet my lips, glancing up to see the sorry amount of conviction in his ice-like eyes. He didn't meet my gaze, staring down at something more interesting to his eye.

"You don't, but you will."

"Yeah," Craig agreed. "I am." It was strange, I thought, how both of our mouths twitched up into a small sort of smile and smirk. I took a step closer on my tip-toes, our chests flat together. One of his hands slid from beneath my shoulder to my waist. Why had I worn a sweater? Why was I wearing anything?

He leaned down as I turned my head higher. Our noses brushed when we tilted our faces, and his lips were as warm as they'd been on my forehead. My eyes flickered behind my lids before opening in a lazy slant. I couldn't see anything beyond my nose, so I raised them to Craig's own instead after passing his pale cheeks with no color. I'm sure mine weren't as pallid in comparison.

It must've been a coincidence how his blue gaze was staring right back at me. We connected on that level, and Craig's eyes blinked languidly in quiet recognition. The action looked like a tired five year old's, but I thought it was cute. His teeth nicked my bottom lip, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh. My mouth parted further to allow him to do this, and I wondered how prominent my breath was against his face. Feeling heavy, I closed my eyes.

The hand on my waist disappeared for a few short seconds before I felt it cup my cheek. His palm was warm and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to lean into it or remain where I was so he could continue nipping my lip. He decided for me, removing his mouth. In its place came his thumb, the pad of it running across the length of my wet, pink skin. My breath hit it once, twice, ricocheting back to where it came from. The tip of his digit touched my top teeth, as well as the ghost of a touch beneath my upper lip.

On instinct, my mouth opened the slightest amount, but it was enough to capture his thumb. I bit down gently, instantly reminded of the incident that had taken place just before my first kiss. Wanting revenge, I rubbed my tongue against the pad of his thumb and wrapped my lips around his skin. Craig chuckled breathlessly. It was a sound that harnessed my heart, making it pump faster.

He plucked his digit from my mouth and I swear I almost whimpered as he did it. "We should go." His voice was deeper, a vibrating tone I've heard more than once. It still sent shivers down my spine. "Otherwise I think I'm going to ask you to show me to your room." My eyes flew open and my cheeks felt much warmer.

When he saw my face, he laughed, because he'd been joking. Of course it was a joke, but it was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. _It was just a goddamn joke_, I told myself, but with Craig's body still so close I couldn't think of it like that. My imagination loved to do terrible things to me. Quickly I dropped away, forcing myself to take a step back and close the door. It shouldn't have had to be forced, though. What the hell was wrong with me?

It wasn't like he hadn't been in my room before. Just not for a period of time beyond five minutes. Still, it was the undertone of his suggestion that had gotten to me.

"So do you not actually have parents?" Craig randomly asked as we started down the path from my house. It was littered with snow and I could see his previous tracks leading up to my door.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I questioned guardedly. "Of course I have parents." My parents were at the coffeehouse, as usual. Actually, I should've been there with them but since they were doing some renovating, they didn't want me to get in the way.

"I've just never met or seen them." He remarked, offhandedly. "We've been hanging out religiously for the past month and a half or something. I was just curious."

"O-oh," I mumbled, feeling bad for snapping. There went my bipolar tendencies again.

As we walked, our hands clanked, knuckles brushing together briefly. I snatched mine away, cradling it to my chest as though it'd been hurt. Strangely, I didn't feel too bad about snapping anymore, and made another move to leer at him from the corner of my eye.

Craig passed me a glance, using it to take in the placement of my hand and disgruntled aura. "Don't start doing this to me," he sighed. I didn't think he actually cared, though.

"Sorry- sorry, I just..." I didn't have an excuse. The apology was useless. I could be so embarrassing sometimes. "I have parents. They're usually at the coffee shop. If they're there, I'm here. If they're here, I'm there. I don't know why you haven't seen them, yet. They know about you, though. I put in a good word for you." Because That Tucker Boy just hadn't been working out for me. Now they called him the Tall One, but I didn't think I was going to tell him that.

"Oh really?" Now he was interested. Great. "What did you say?" We stopped at his car and he leaned against the door like he had the outside entryway. I looked at the ground, wanting to have anything but him to stare at. He was still in my peripheral, so my attempts were pretty much useless.

"I-I don't know." My feet shuffled around the stems of green that were peeking up from the snow. "I might've mentioned that you're tall." Deciding just to own up to it, I lifted my shy eyes to him. He had his head cocked to the side, hair like a dark halo around his face. A wolfish grin was staring me down.

"You like that, don't you?" His tone was conniving. A squeak fell from my mouth at his inquiry. His lips spread wider. "How tall I am," he emphasized.

No, God no, no I didn't. "Good one," I tried. It was apparent how hard I'd failed. Craig chuckled, the cold breeze carrying the devilish sound straight to my ears. "How tall are you?" The question was out before I'd even had a chance to censor it.

Craig looked egotistical as he responded, "Six, three. An inch shorter than my dad."

_Oh._ My eyes nearly bulged. I was five, five. He was nearly a foot taller than me. I really shouldn't have found myself liking that fact as much as I was. Thomas would like it, too. But right now Thomas wasn't here. I guessed I'd just like it for him, then.

He'd appreciate that, wouldn't he? I shuffled my feet against the ground again, diverting my eyes from Craig's six-foot-three body. "Want me to open the door for you?" He asked, gloating at my reaction even though I'd tried to hide it. Keeping myself hidden must've been one of the many things I wasn't good at.

I nodded my head, "Yes, please." He drew himself out of his leaning posture and sauntered around to the other side of his car. Following bashfully, I waited until the door was open like he was my chauffeur and got inside. My boots were on the floor, waiting. When the door never shut, I took the risk of glancing outside. Craig was resting his head in his arms, his arms on the open door. A blush adorned my cheeks when I saw that he was staring at me.

"You wanna know the size of my dick?" He teased, snickering when my blush burned brighter.

"No," I shot back. "But I do want to know why there's a bottle of alcohol in my boot."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, choosing that moment to shut the door. My glare was hot on his trail as he backtracked to his side of the car and got inside. The first thing he did was turn the radio off, although I caught a snippet of aged tunes. Hot air flushed my face as the machine had been ready from previous use.

"Kenny probably put it there."

"Thanks for inviting me," I muttered, half sarcastic. The other half, I didn't even know.

Craig widened his eyes and gave me the imitation of a pout before dropping it just as suddenly. "Eh, Ruby was having her little party so I had Kenny keep us all company since I was their chaperone. We got a bunch of fourteen-year-olds drunk. It was great. Why? You jealous that I partied without you? Or are you jealous that you didn't get to party with _me_?" Sly bastard.

"Neither." Leaning across the center console I faced him and puckered my lips. I didn't even know where that had come from, but I guess I wanted a kiss. Craig dropped his act and planted a wet one against my mouth. My stomach felt alight with a beautiful sickness at his reciprocation. Maybe I hadn't expected him to actually do it. "One more," I ordered. The niorette pulled back to smirk down at me, before returning his mouth to mine.

"Don't think that these things are indispensable," he mumbled against my lips, lightly placing a third. My pulse jogged, and I didn't even know when it happened, but I was smiling. Craig Tucker was a liar, I thought, biting my lip to keep from asking for more. My silence didn't keep him from knowing what I wanted. Smirking, he brushed his lips against my cheek, placing a delicate kiss against my tinted skin. "We're not going to get anywhere if you keep doing this." This time it was my turn to pout.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy to boss around, then." Craig immediately straightened at the loosened leash I'd given up. "Wait!" I panicked. "I take that back!" Except he stopped listening to me. Contentedly, he put his car into drive and started to back out my driveway. "C-Craig! You cant do this! It's not fair!"

"You just said so yourself: you boss me around. What's not fair about saying no to you every once in a while?" He glanced at me with an uncharacteristic playful glint in his icy eyes. "Put your seat belt on."

My lips pulled down at his order, but I listened and put my seat belt on. "That's the only thing I have on you," I explained, desperate to get my control back. "You always beat me at everything-"

"But none of that matters if you can tell me what to do and I'll do it? Great argument, Tweek. I can feel myself falling back to your every whim already." His sarcasm wasn't funny. I wouldn't laugh at his stupid sense of humor until he let me boss him around again.

"Please?" I asked, reverting to pleading. He stopped at a red light, taking the chance to glance at me again. I kept my downward lips in place and stared at my hands in my lap as though I didn't sense him staring. "I'm really sad today."

"You're such a bullshitter, dude!" Craig divvied out, smart for not believing my fake excuse.

"It'll make me happy!" I tried one last time for the gloomy jest, but my mask was cracking when I saw Craig staring intently at the road. He was actually contemplating it! Even out from under my control he was having a hard time not listening to my commands. Perhaps I had a split personality who was a mastermind, because I definitely hadn't thought that I'd be capable of this. "I'll be able to help you pick out an add-on to Stripe's cage," I was a cruel person for using the love of his life against him, "otherwise I'll just mope around and be useless all day."

"You dirty son of a bitch," Craig growled. A smirk twisted my features as his face screwed in agony. He sped through a yellow light, seeming to blow off some of his steam at the speed he was going.

"If I'm happy, Stripe will be hap-"

"I have a trunk for a reason. I'm going to tie you up and throw you back there if you don't shut up." My mouth zipped shut and I sat back in the seat like I should've to begin with. Unfortunately for him, the seed had already been planted. Craig would give in before the car ride was up. All I had to do was wait and enjoy his torture.

* * *

><p>"Alright, you little shit." We were parked in front of the Petsmart about five minutes later and Craig had made it longer that I'd expected. I wasn't going to commend him, though. He'd get cocky if I did that. "Don't think that this is over by a long-shot. Just for today, maybe until Christmas break is over." My nose scrunched in fondness toward his reassessed condition. I liked this game; it was was fun. He leaned across the center console, much like I had just minutes before. "But I get to boss you around one time before I go back to being your bitch."<p>

Nodding, I could feel the drop that my stomach was taking. He was making it obvious as to what he was going to tell me to do. I honestly couldn't say that I'd mind if he bossed me around just as long as that was going to be what he ordered every single time. The niorette let his head hang to the side, raising one hand to noiselessly motion me forward. Removing the seat belt, I turned around in my seat and followed his instruction. He puckered his lips, identical to how I had.

Another smile worked its way onto my lips and I reached my hands out to hold his face. I tried to make the same expression he was, but my smile kept getting in the way. A snicker tumbled and fell against his mouth. Craig frowned, offended at my less than formidable kiss. "That sucked, I want a real one." I tutted at his declaration, cupping his cheeks and squeezing them together. "Okay, I'm pissed now." His words were jumbled in the scrunched nature I'd forced his face into. To make him feel worse, I laughed at his distorted features. "Bitch."

"It looks good on you," I encouraged. "You look like a pug. It's cute." Proving myself right, I dug myself deeper into my hole of betrayal.

"If you kiss me, I'll believe you." Looking down at his dumbly smooshed lips, I declined my head and pressed a chaste kiss to them. I took one more look, snickered, and let his face go. He returned to normal, nerves and muscles reconstructing his handsome features. I smoothed his cheeks out anyways, just in case. His skin was soft and warm against my palms, but near the back of his jawline was the barest hint of stubble. My fingers traced over the slightly blemished areas as my stomach bunched up tight.

Craig wet his lips, a slow, tempting run of his tongue. The enticing movement had my eyes glued to his mouth. My hands cupping his jaw dragged him toward me, and he moved just so. One of his arms curled around my shoulders, bringing me forth. My elbows pressed against his chest as my limbs locked between us. We breathed the same air and his hand began kneading into my sweater, working at my skin, causing me to sigh in. He nudged our mouths together, but didn't kiss. I was still stifled by his fingers, receiving memories of the night he'd given me the massage.

Now I was craving another one, but more than that, I wanted to take him up on his offer and give _him_ the massage. For a few days I'd been contemplating the idea and if Craig was tempting, then the thought of touching his body was just something I couldn't pass up.

He flicked his tongue out, slipping it between my parted lips. I inhaled sharply through my nose, encompassing his tongue in the walls of my mouth. I rolled mine against his, the slick wetness initiating me to clutch his head firmly. He had such a prominent jaw line. My pinkies dipped with the protruding bones on the underside of his chin. Enthralled, I felt his skin ripple as he moved his mouth and tongue. Bodies were so strange.

In the back of my mind, a niggling thought asked me what the people walking by were thinking as they saw us. My pulse plummeted and I pushed Craig away. Eyes frantically searching the parking lot, which was near empty, I saw no derogatory looks pinpointed our way. Probably because nobody was out there. Still, I was shaken by the idea of passerby catching a glimpse. Their negative outlook was the only possible reaction I could imagine. But since when was South Park homophobic? We condoned murderers and pedophiles for god sakes.

The niorette didn't seem bothered by my off-putting shove. He just took it and turned his car off, lips curled in amusement. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. We got out in unison and met at the trunk. Craig started walking while I stayed put, waiting until he noticed that I wasn't following. It didn't take long, and when it did, he scrutinized me to figure out what my deal was. I felt self-conscious under his intrusive observation as his eyes raked like cold steel across my body.

I wanted to know what he saw, how thin or fragile I looked in his eyes. I wanted to see what he did that made it okay for me to kiss him. Certainly I wasn't ugly as I was quite aware that I had some rather... _unique_ features. Maybe that was it. Maybe Craig liked 'unique'. It seemed too generous of a word, though. 'Weird' was probably a better description.

Recognition took over the majority of his stare. "Okay," he relented. "What do you want?"

There was no way I couldn't _not_ smile at that. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he actually _liked_ being my slave. "I don't want to walk all the way up there. My legs are tired," I lied.

"Man-up, then. What am I supposed to do? Go grab a cart and stick you in it?" He was giving me a skeptical glance, but there was a hint of validation stowing away in there. Raising my arms, I reached out for that weakness glowing in the depth of his eyes. His skepticism turned into exaggerated disbelief. "You're really going to make me carry you?"

"No, I just want a piggy-back ride," I corrected. His face didn't change.

"I'm going to have to exert a huge amount of strength to lift your fat ass up. What are you going to give me in return?" But he was already starting back toward me despite his misleading insult. For that, I definitely wasn't going to give him a kiss.

"I've got a quarter in my pocket, I think." It was actually Thomas's quarter. He'd be honored to know that it belonged to Craig now, I assured myself. "Now get on the ground, you tall fuck. I'm too scared to jump that high." The niorette almost looked proud at my retort as he dropped to his knees.

"Good enough," he said, accepting my exchange of the quarter. "Isn't this what you've always wanted? Me kneeling in front of you? Except I'm in the wrong direction," he teased over his shoulder.

My fist connected with the back of his head for that one. He snickered, so I hit him again to shut him up, except it didn't work. I thanked God that he wasn't facing me, otherwise he'd see how pink my cheeks were. Humiliation wasn't really of interest for me today. To appear nonchalant, I braced myself by slinging my arms around his neck and hugged my elbows. His back pressed flush against my chest and the back of his ribcage expanded as he took a breath. Hesitantly, because I was a piggy-back virgin, one of my legs lifted shakily.

Thigh splayed flat against his hip, he grabbed and held it to his side with a firm grip. My leg felt safe in his hold, locked between his waist and his large palm. All I had to do was lift my other leg, but I was as scared to do that as I would've been having to jump. What if I lost my groove and fell, cracking my head on his car's bumper? The paranoia and the plausible accident that could give me amnesia culled any of my lingering courage.

"Is this going to be a one-legged deal or what?" Craig asked when I was taking an irregularly long pause in my actions.

"No, I just- I'm scared, dude. I've never done this before. I don't want to crack my f-fucking head or something, you know?"

"You're not going to crack your head," he scoffed. "I've got you. Just give me your other leg." Even though his solace was less than emotionless, it made me feel a wee bit better.

Bending my knee, I clung tightly to his neck and kicked off the ground. As Craig grabbed my opposite thigh, he stood up, and suddenly I knew what it was like to be six-foot-three. I hated it. _Sweet Jesus_, the ground was too far away. The sky was too close to my head. My stomach lurched and an embarrassing squeak flew from my mouth.

Craig laughed, an action that vibrated against my chest and made me wish that there weren't two layers of clothes between us. He started moving, evoking me to the realization that he had a swagger to his walk. It was something that I'd never noticed before, but indeed, since he was lanky with gangly limbs, his legs performed a natural amble. Wrapping my legs closer to his waist I locked my feet together for the extra security.

"So this is your first piggy-back ride?" He asked, and I shouldn't have shivered when he slid his palms back and forth across the length of my thighs.

"Y-yeah. So don't ruin it for me." I couldn't see it, but I felt him grin from ear to ear.

"I'm on a roll with this whole taking-your-firsts thing, aren't I?" My skin exploded in a hot blush when one of his hands veered backward, smacked me on the butt. A yip careened out of my mouth and my hips unconsciously jumped forward to run from his sneaking hand. Sadly, there was no forward to escape to, resulting in me successfully humping his back.

My only luck was that Craig couldn't see my face. He laughed snidely, obviously enjoying my embarrassment even if he couldn't see it.

"Stop making everything so sexual!" I cried, undoing one of my arms so that I could pinch his ear. He shook my offending fingers away, turning his head enough that I could see his grueling smirk. I would've slapped it from his face, but that would only help his case.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy to tease, then." He'd used my own wording against me.

"I'm like, five seconds away from giving you a wet-willy."

"Yeah, because Clyde doesn't give me enough of those already."

"I wonder why," I sneered.

"Yeah, me too," he replied with mock concern.

Strolling up to the automatic doors, Craig paused as he waited for them to slide open. A whoosh of cool—slightly warmer—air collided with us, pushing the hair back from our faces. After a second set of doors, we were officially inside the pet store. It smelt like animal feed and little critters. Near the middle of the store were two petite buildings filled with windows and cages. From here, all I could see were the birds but I knew that there were mice and lizards and other small rodents and reptiles as well.

To the far left was the fish sanctuary, and to the far right was the cat adoption center. A training ring sat in the back for the dogs, and in between all of that were aisles of supplies ranging from tanks and homes to food and clothes. Craig asked if I wanted to be let down, but there was no way I was jumping. "Excuse me," he started toward one of the registers where a girl with a mop of brown curls was standing. I might've seen her working at Raisins one time or another, or maybe I was just being stereotypical because she was very pretty. "I'm going to borrow this for a second."

I tried to intervene, utterly against using her counter as a leverage to get off of Craig's back, but he wasn't paying attention to my revolt. The girl didn't appear put off, she was more confused than anything, when the niorette positioned me on top of the counter and plopped me down. I quickly pounced off of the table, practically sliding down Craig's body for he hadn't had the chance to move away, before rushing off with a shy apology. He stalked after me, following me until I tried to turn down the cage aisle.

Grabbing the hood of my sweater, he dragged me backwards. I choked, grabbing for my neck to keep from coughing. Craning my head back, I stared up at him for an explanation. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the critter building. "I always look at the guinea pigs first." He could be so- I wasn't going to use the word cute again. I really needed to stop that. It was very... sweet.

"Okay," I mumbled, voice just a whisper. He dragged me over to the few large tanks closest to the ground by my sweater, as though he didn't trust that I'd follow. I stumbled after him, tripping over my feet, probably looking rather sad. I just hadn't been born with grace. No, two left feet was what I'd been stuck with.

He let me go and crouched down to his knees. His shirt and jacket rode up, exposing the elastic hem of his boxer-briefs. I thought about giving him a wedgie, but he was being extra _sweet_ at the moment. My ears picked up his quiet cooing as he wagged a finger at one of the brown spotted guinea pigs peeking out from its dome. Sidling down next to him, our knees brushed and I leaned my shoulder against him for balance. Through the veil of his hair, I saw his placid expression. He looked calm and euphoric, watching as a few of the small animals traded places around the tank.

One of them had a white body with one brindled spot on the side of its head and itty-bitty muzzle. It stared up at Craig with beady black eyes, and twitching nose and whiskers. Under his breath, the niorette said, "Hello". For a moment the guinea pig just sat there. Then from behind, it was pushed out of the cover of its little dome. Craig smiled, waving his finger again. The critter came forward, wiggling its precious baby nose against the glass. Animal instincts must have told it that Craig was a good guy.

"I'm going to own a guinea pig farm before I turn thirty," he randomly stated. "Or I'll be a vet specially for guinea pigs. Maybe I'll be a scientist and clone Stripe a thousand times that way a thousand people can have a Stripe of their own. He'd like that. He's a conceited asshole."

"Sounds like you." I grinned when he shot me a glance.

"I don't think you want a thousand Craigs."

Contrary to his belief, I rebutted, "Why wouldn't I want to have a thousand people who'll do my bidding?"

"Be careful what you wish for. I might end up raping you a thousand times." My expression was horrified. Craig saw it and winked before standing up.

Pink in the cheeks, I repeated his action and played as his shadow as we walked into the aisle with the bedding, tanks, and cages. There were some on display, metal and plastic cages full of colors and creatively designed running wheels. Their sizes varied, smaller ones for gerbils or hamsters, larger ones for guinea pigs or rabbits. I recalled seeing a few of them in Stripe's collection of houses.

"We need to make sure that I don't get one I already have. Stripe likes to explore new things and gets pissy when I buy doubles." I loved how he talked about his guinea pig like he was an actual person. To Craig, he probably was. He certainly knew every aspect of the critter's personality.

"Are you sure you have room for this, dude?" Not that I wanted to be a party-pooper or anything.

"If I don't then I'll _make_ room," he threatened. I didn't doubt him in the slightest.

Patiently waiting, I watched as he inspected all of the details pertaining to the numerous different cages on their information charts. He looked to be making mental notes, sifting out the good from the bad. The ones on display were checked for their durability, forced to endure the rough-housing of Craig's experimenting. As for the ones in the boxes, they still didn't stand a chance. If at all possible, he'd crack open the boxes to check for quality.

At one point, an employee came by and asked if he needed help. I cowered behind him, afraid that we were about to be kicked out for Craig's impulsive searching. He didn't even look up as he responded with a curt, "No thanks." We were left in our own privacy, and I exhaled slowly to release my nerves. Glancing down at me, he smirked at my shy nature. My eyes averted to the ground, resistant to feeling the brunt of his tease.

A spindly limb circled my shoulders, luring me against his chest. Using the movement to my advantage, I hid my face against the fold of his jacket. It smelt like leather and Craig, of vanilla and mint and cigarettes. The urge to curl my arm around his neck hit me hard, but I fiddled with the zipper of his top instead. His hand hung limp from his wrist resting against the bone of my shoulder. I wondered if it was normal for two friends to act like this around each other, so touchy and comfortable.

Thomas and I often acted the same, I guessed, but Craig wasn't Thomas and I just felt different with him than I did with the golden blonde.

Thank God. That would've been weird if I wanted to kiss Thomas all the time. Or smell him all the time. Or boss him around whenever I had the chance. What if I actually had some creepy control complex? Jesus, I needed Friday to come already. Dr. Norris would know what was wrong with me.

"We've got three choices. I'll let you pick which one." He raised his hand and drummed his fingers against my cheek to lift me out of my stupor.

"Well aren't you sweet?" I jeered, tossing my eyes up to see him staring down at me humorlessly. My nose crinkled in distaste. He mimicked the action, oddly resembling an angry puppy dog. "I'm just going to pick the most expensive one."

"One day you're going to wake up and your feet are going to be missing."

My features grew stricken. Did he just threaten me? "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean, man?"

"It means you better pick out a formidable cage for my guinea pig, regardless of the price." I nodded vigorously, touching the tips of my toes together as I was now conscious of the importance of their presence. One side of Craig's lips quirked up crookedly. If we'd been alone, I probably would've kissed him. The lopsided grin fit him much too well. "Nobody is looking," he persuaded, catching the direction my eyes were going.

And risk somebody walking by? I'd already taken that chance in his car. This time I shook my head, ducking out from beneath his arm. He called me a pussy, but let it go by pointing out three distinct cages. I looked at them closely, examining their attributes. They were each very spacious and all three came with their own toys. One had two stories with a ladder, another had a curly-q tube, and the other came with a snazzy food hanger. I demanded that Craig get the two story cage because, strangely, Stripe didn't have one of those yet.

That's when he offered me what I believed was my first ever compliment that wasn't ridiculing. "Good choice." It was disappointing, even to me, that that was my idea of thoughtful flattery. But I took it graciously, tucking it away safe and sound in my head.

* * *

><p>"Your sisters not going to come in here and ravish me, is she?" I asked, worriedly. Half of my face was peering through the crack of Craig's bedroom door, on the lookout to see if the coast was clear. To be honest, she pretty much scared me shitless. Her infatuation with me, her brother's <em>gay<em> friend, set me on edge. Had he not told her that I definitely liked the dick? The thought of her vagina made me want to cry and, my god, if it ever got close to me I was going to book it out of the state of Colorado.

The niorette chuckled in the distance, somewhere behind me, presumably setting up Stripe's new home addition. "I sure hope not. The least she could do is wait until I getting this thing built. She can have you all to herself after that." _No._ That was _not_ a good plan. Craig was a traitor because I knew that he was dead serious. He wouldn't bat an eye if she barged into his room and dragged me out screaming. I wanted to punch Thomas for making me associate with this asshole.

Shutting his door, I turned on my heel to face him. Waiting on my face was a displeased frown. My plan was to make him stare at it until he caved and promised guardianship over my safety when his sister was near. I never got that far though, and my scowl fell away completely. It was hard to swallow as I stared at Craig, physically feeling my eyes devour him. Dear God, yes, I wanted to massage that body. With my mouth.

He was bent over his bed, working on opening up the large box which held the pieces of Stripe's cage. I had absolutely _no_ idea why, but for some crazy reason he had to take his _clothes_ off to do that. All he wore were his jeans, now rolled down to cover his ankles. The muscles of his stomach were contracted due to his leaning posture, and his arms flexed when he tore through the tape securing the box. Some of the tape stuck to his fingers and he whipped his hand around in annoyance. Straightening, he grabbed the tape and slapped it against his wall.

His hip bones were razor sharp, poking out from the waistband of his boxer briefs as his jeans had sagged too much to cover them. _He has V lines._ Jesus, he had godly V lines. They made his hips appear bold, accentuating the thin line of hair leading from his navel to his uh—I beat myself over the head with a pickax_—crotch area_, yeah that sounded innocent enough. My mouth grew dry and I didn't have to worry about swallowing because I didn't have any saliva to do it with anyways. He bent over again, and the curve of his back caused his spine to extrude.

"So did I get a rise out of you?" Craig asked, voice mocking. The question was so startlingly unfamiliar that I had to think it over a few times before I even understood that he'd said something. He glanced up, pale eyes piercing, even from across the room. I knew my cheeks were rosy, and I wanted to hide them, but I couldn't figure out how to look away. That crooked smirk tainted his lips. It intensified his half naked appearance in the most attractive way. "You're too easy. Turning you on isn't even a challenge."

_Now_ my body conveniently knew how to pivot my gaze. Quite quickly, too. I bit my lip in mortification, shuffling backwards to forge a farther distance between us. "Come on, dude," Craig continued. "I haven't even put on my sex appeal yet." _Yet._ God, I just wanted to run out of there and let his sister have me. Anything was better than this.

"J-Just put your cage together," I grumbled. "And stop looking at me."

He laughed at my attitude, and almost continued doing his task, but he held out his hand instead. "Hand me one of my shirts. Your gayness is fogging up the room. I wouldn't want Stripe to suffocate on your cooties."


	15. Chapter 15

I adore every single one of you.

* * *

><p>Waking up this morning I realized it was Sunday, and tomorrow was the start of the second semester. Today was going to be filled with nothing but sleep, food, and trying to save up enough energy for the rest of the school year. I didn't think it was necessarily going to work out too well though, considering the fact that Tweek was passed out next to me. Last night I forced him to stay over, but not without getting a verbal slap in the face.<p>

For the longest time he wouldn't shut up about how my dad was going to find us sleeping together, figure out what we'd been doing—kissing, wow, big deal—and then rape him to teach us a lesson. His worries dissolved into irrational fears when my dad ended up inviting us to watch a movie with him while bundled up in a Snuggie—a Christmas present courtesy of Ruby. He'd even offered to share his ice cream like he did with Clyde, but I found out that Tweek only liked pecan, Dulce de leche, and bonnaroo buzz if it was from Ben & Jerry's.

Turning over, I ended up on my side facing the blonde. He was curled into the fetal position, hugging the pillow he'd snatched from beneath my head sometime during the middle of the night. I guessed I lost two things last night: my pillow, and my pants. Tweek was going to be pissed when he found out I'd slept next to him naked.

Sheets were bunched up around his chin, and I wasn't sure how he was breathing so evenly in such a close-knit cocoon. There wasn't very much light to see with due to the dark blanket covering my window, but I could make out the contrast of his creamy skin tone and fair hair against my dark bedspread. His eyelashes matched their bleak shade, and I thought he looked nice like that, subtly matching a few of my things.

Stripe was burrowing in his bedding down below, the soft ticking of his scampering feet like a clock. I had always been comforted by his instinctual critter noises, from his tiny guinea pig calls to his water dispenser clicking against his cage when he caught a drop or two. My sleep had come so easily over the numerous years because of these comforting sounds that when I slept anywhere else, it was actually quite hard to relax.

Tweek hadn't complained about the noises, but I knew from experience that they tended to bother others, especially Clyde. He sometimes fell asleep in Ruby's room whenever he stayed over just so he wouldn't be distracted by Stripe. The blonde's room was silent, I was sure. So he either didn't mind or just wanted to be humble and keep his complaints to himself.

I checked my phone, catching the time as I made a note of how unpopular I was. It was two in the afternoon and I had no text messages or missed calls or notifications or anything. Not even from my mom. I tossed it to the side, disgruntled by its emptiness. As it landed with a thump, Stripe got scared and skittered to the new second level of his house. The ruckus, although clattering, hadn't penetrated the blonde's sleepy haze. It occurred to me then that he'd taken another pill just before going to bed. Perhaps it had been for nighttime, like a little nudge to help him fall asleep.

When I closed my eyes and tried for a bit more rest, I saw the lights behind my lids and found myself swept away by their shapes and neon colors. My brain was a working contraption at the moment, telling me that I was done with shuteye, that I was already awake. Fairly disappointed, I blinked just in time to witness Tweek yawn and nuzzle deeper into my blankets.

Everything about him was ridiculously fragile. I felt like Token did towards Bebe, except this wasn't just a protocol. Tweek was easily damageable, and it wouldn't be hard to break his brittle shell. There was a constant string of caution tape surrounding him, an imaginary barrier, one that I had crossed last week. Even though I'd forced him into confessing the impact his issues had taken on his life—how he had to see a psychiatrist for the toll they'd taken—I wasn't satisfied with what little information I'd been given.

_He_ cared that he took medication to stunt the progress of his problems but _I_ didn't. I just wanted him to stop thinking he was so private about taking his pills all the time, seeing as he seriously wasn't, because as things were now, his ignorance toward my knowledge—as though I seriously didn't watch him when he swallowed one—was somewhat insulting. Things would be simple once he didn't feel like he had to hide.

I'd get it out of him eventually. This was just the eye of the storm. If he honestly didn't want me knowing, he shouldn't have taken them in front of me like it was no big deal. But maybe he had no control of his compulsions. If he had to take one, he had to take it.

Annoyed by the secrecy of his internal conflict, I mentally pushed it to the side where it would sit in my equally mental waiting room, probably for a millenia or more if I went by how prude Tweek was being about the topic.

Returning my concentration to the blonde, since there was nothing better to do with all of the free time I suddenly had for waking up so goddamn early, I watched his sleeping figure. My eyes explored what features of his were visible, intrigued by how strange he looked. He really was a unique kid, and even with his eyes closed you could tell how big they were.

His nose twitched and his brows knit. Just as quickly they loosened, retreating back to his regular sleeping face. I was beginning to feel a crick in my neck, so I sidled closer and laid my head on the same pillow as him. The arms wrapped snug around a different pillow—which should've been _mine_—brushed against my bare chest. He remained neutral, oblivious to our close proximity. I smirked at the advantage I had over him.

In my head I was plotting out a devious scheme. I wanted to know how many buttons I'd have to push before he lost it. This was definitely going to be my greatest tease, and ultimately land me in a great spot for abuse. Thankfully my black eye from last week was almost completely cleared up, because I had a feeling that I was about to get another one, and I didn't really want them to start piling up.

With careful precision, I untucked one of his spindly limbs from around my pillow and slipped it out of his grasp, all the while taking a few darting glances toward his calm features to make sure he was still unconscious. I dropped the bag of fluff over my shoulder before taking his same arm to slip it across my chest. His limb immediately attached to my torso.

For whatever reason, his expression lightened into a blissful facade, and his fingers curled against my back. My skin picked up the catch of his fingers, interested by the slight scratch they provided. Knees shifting, his legs gave way and his tangled fetal position went lax. I grinned snidely, pushing gently against his bent limbs. They resisted for a quick moment, though they dropped after a few more soft prods.

I was almost tempted to sneak my hand further beneath the covers to tickle his thigh. Unfortunately, the risk of him waking was too high, so I avoided the snare gripping his petite thigh provided. Instead, I scooted closer until I felt his knees press against my legs. His arm curled in time with my scoot, tightening inch by inch, and then he was unconsciously huddling toward my warmth as though I were his pillow, and I knew right then that my plan was a success.

The covers were partly bunched between us, but that didn't stop him from seeking the body before him. As he made to crawl closer, my own arm wound around his shoulders, helping him in the act. His other limb was caught in the sandwich of our chests, but he didn't seem to mind. It was then like a natural instinct, how fluidly his leg tucked itself across my nude thigh, and his boxers rode up, and for the quickest of seconds it felt like Tweek was as naked as I was. My pulse lurched at the thought, a crazy feeling that I still wasn't very familiar with. Yet I found myself fond of it. Fond of how it made my system excited.

Nuzzling my nose into his hair, I brought my lips close to his ear and blew tenderly so his feathered locks swished away. Against the exposed shell of his ear I whispered, "Coffee Bean...". His skin quivered, and all of his limbs gripped me tightly to keep me from slipping away although I wasn't going anywhere. It was hard to control the shit-eating grin I wore on my face. The level of wrath Tweek would attempt to murder me with for this was just too grand. I was going to have a field day when he woke up.

My hand slid down his back, over the smooth expanse of his skin, and I remembered what it was like to massage him, how slick his flesh had gotten after being coated in oil. He arched his body as though I'd been pushing him to do so. Our chests rubbed together and _now_ I pressing him against me for the sake of sensation. A muffled noise escaped his lips, barely a coo, and I dipped my head to hear it clearly.

"Coffee Bean," I murmured again, eliciting in the way his arm laid between my shoulder blades, forearm like a burning rod of metal. Fingers curled around the roots of my hair. His hip cradled in my palm, I eased him forward. His other arm found its way around my neck and his leg hiked higher upon my waist. He made another noise like a quiet sigh, inhaling deeply.

A moment passed, a silent one full of nothing but the rich scent of coffee, and then he answered as if I'd just called out his nickname. He hummed a vibrational note against the column of my throat, causing my fingers to involuntarily tightest against his hip. The bone was sharp, pressing into my palm through a thin layer of skin. When he repeated the noise, my thumb began to trace circles, and if I wasn't mistaken, his breath hitched where it blew against my neck. "..._Mmm_."

"Mhm," I repeated, tickling his jaw with my purr. His face turned in to mine, warm breath echoing against my lips. His fingers detached somewhat from my hair, just kind of dangling in my locks now, and I wondered if he was noticing the situation.

"Is it time to wake up?" His voice wasn't all there, kind of going in and out of speech.

"Yep. It's two o'clock," I explained, trailing my fingers up his side to rest against his rib cage.

His body shuddered. "Why are you so close?" The question was coherent enough to warn me that his rage was about to come.

"I just wanted to cuddle." My answer came out sly and sarcastic, two things Tweek would understand. His body immediately grew tense, but what was interesting was how his temperature seemed to pick up a few degrees. _He's embarrassed_, I thought, grinning coyly, my own skin practically absorbing the difference radiating off of him.

"Liar." He thrust his head away to stare at me skeptically. The heat I felt was coming from his face, the pink dusting on his cheeks, and I couldn't wait to see it morph into a much darker shade.

"Liar?" I chuckled. "You know me too well."

"Seriously?" His eyes didn't seem to know whether they wanted to widen, narrow, show fear or worry—and yet they managed all of them. My chuckle grew daunting, a sound that must've scared him to the core because what prevailed in the crystallized color of his eyes was fear. "W-what are you talk about?"

To be curt I said, "Just don't look under the sheets."

It all clicked together just like that, and Tweek couldn't even manage anger, because he was too busy gawking up at me to do much of anything else. He couldn't even breathe, and the loss of oxygen was apparent by the color of his cheeks. The pink had swirled into a brighter, less translucent tone. I thought he was lucky to be one of the few fuckers who looked good wearing a blush since I was pretty sure that this one would be sticking around for a while.

"You-... _Craig_," he whimpered harshly. "Oh my god. Y-you're-" Although he didn't look beneath the covers, he acted like he had. "You're _naked_?" He was incredulous, the beginnings of fury stirring his emotions.

All I did was continue to smile down at him like everything was good in the world. And it was. At least for me.

"_Sweet Jesus_, you're naked." Now it was a fact because he new it was true. I had warned him about this happening, just before he'd agreed to be my friend. He couldn't have honestly thought I'd been bluffing, could he? "I can't believe you. Y-you're_crazy_. Why would you _do_ something like this?"

"It's comfortable," I said.

"N-no! Why would you cuddle up to me _naked_, dude?" There wasn't a trace of sleep left in either of us, and I felt proud for having literally scared it out of the blonde. "We _k-kiss_, man. You can just do things like this!"

_Funny._ "I thought that was platonic. This shouldn't bother you at all if that's the case."

He looked afraid of the point I made. "I-It is. It is platonic, dude." Watching his reaction: his inexcusable worry and embarrassment, his half-hyperventilating state, the way he hadn't untangled our bodies yet—it all revealed something _very_ suspicious. It appeared to me that it wasn't I who was the liar. It was Tweek.

Smirking I said, "Whatever you say."

The blonde put himself on guard, glaring into my eyes. The green in his was flashing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I think you're full of shit."

"I'm not." He frowned and pinched the nape of my neck. I could tell he didn't want me to go any further because I was right, so I decided to be nice—pretty sure making him wake up next to a naked man was traumatizing enough—and let it go. "Can you put some pants on or something?" His request was quite sweet thanks to the way he downcast his eyes and his lips were no longer frowning, but pouting. I didn't want to say no to that.

"Sure, but close your eyes. I'm about to roll out of here, and if you don't take precaution I'll moon you." He slapped his hands across his eyes. "Good boy." And then I did just as I foretold and rolled away from the blonde. My boxer-briefs were somewhere on my floor, hopefully still where I'd flung them last night unless the demon snatched 'em, and hopefully not on Stripe's cage because he loved to nibble at them on the rare occasion that it happened. I found them a mere reach away, and thought it was my lucky day.

Slipping them on, I backtracked toward the blonde in an opposite roll, and intricately put us back into the same position we'd been in before I left. I did it for Tweek's sake, so it would be like I'd never had to leave to begin with, like I'd never been nude. He picked up on it right away, grateful. "Are we doing anything today?" He asked, negative emotions gone from his voice. His hand—returned to my hair—grazed my scalp gently. I crooned at the soft rub, encouraging him to scratch a little bit rougher.

"Unless you want to," I managed to get out before I fell to the calm of his stroking fingers and closed my eyes. I could almost hear Tweek smile at my response.

"We have school tomorrow," he mused, slightly disappointed.

"I know," I grumbled. "That's all I've been able to think about. Definitely a mood-ruiner." My palm idly rubbed his back, slipping back and forth of its own authority. The blonde sighed, fiddling with the strands of my hair.

"Just one more semester, though. And then we graduate." Shit like that didn't work with me. Especially when I counted five goddamn months before that graduation occurred.

"Yeah. Unless I fail trigonometry." Honestly, that was just a fun word. There shouldn't be an abbreviated version unless you had a speech impediment. "I might cry if that happens."

"Shut up," Tweek scoffed. "You know I'll tutor you, dude." I smiled at that, liking the sound of it for some reason. "You should walk me home today."

Cracking an eye open, I stared at him curiously. "Why? It's cold out. You hate the cold."

"If I hated it I wouldn't live here," he laughed. The way his smile was so tender attracted my eyes. "I just haven't gone outside much, and I feel bad."

"For what?" I jeered. "The trees and the pavement because they can't breathe under all that snow?" Tweek diverted his eyes, staring down at the slim amount of sheets still between us. "Seriously?" He didn't answer. "You're so gay."

"Obviously."

"I meant stupid gay, not homo gay." He blushed. "Don't worry, you're both." I pecked his nose, only to have him glare at me, but not in anger. He looked back down, gaze engrossed in something else entirely. Thinking it was still my bed sheets, I was too lazy to roll my eyes, but then I saw the new hue his blush took and thought it was something else he was staring at.

Watching him a moment, I caught the flicker of his eyes and the direction of their travel over the area of my exposed chest, and the very ginger flex of my arm as it continued to graze across his back. He couldn't very well see beneath the sheets, but he could still see the outline of my torso through the coverlet. I chuckled, earning a scornful glance, and I thought it was funny how he couldn't quite bring his eyes to leave my naked chest.

My hand slipped from his back to his arm, cupped his shoulder, and rubbed its curve with a featherlight circular motion. "You know," I started, voice low like I was sharing a secret. "You don't have to just look." The flash of heat I felt from my own words almost astounded me.

"W-what?" Tweek choked, ripping his eyes away from my body.

Reaching around, I found his wrists and slowly brought his hands back to my front. Tweek observed with a stubborn sense of innocence, although he was mindful when I lowered them to my chest. The tips of his fingers twitched and tickled where they just barely touched my skin. I resumed controlling them, slipping them lower, across my ribcage, and lower still, until they trickled across my abdominal muscles.

A forced broken breath exhausted from the blonde's lungs. I let go of his hands; his touches remained chaste. But he didn't take them away. The green in his eyes was suddenly swallowed by black as he stared with unrestrained—although he tried so hard to keep it hidden—hunger. "I-I shouldn't." He was talking to himself as his eyelids fluttered, and he sucked in his bottom lip to bite it abusively like the pain would keep him from delving into something he thought he shouldn't. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him fight himself.

Quickly, and I could hear him saying _just one wont hurt_ inside his head because I was preaching it in my own, he tilted his body toward me and nestled his lips just beneath my collarbone. His lips were slightly damp and warm, somehow finding a cozy spot to rest against, although the moment came and left and I thought it was all too fast. Too fast and yet I was already breathless.

When he tried to move, I cupped the back of his head and held him in place before my chest. Tweek eyes rapidly darted up to meet mine for proof that I was actually urging him to continue. I smirked at his sketchy attitude, and that was everything that he needed. His mouth came back, planting kisses along my collarbone. They fanned out toward my throat and his hands clenched against my stomach.

The soft brush of his lips was sweet. They were nothing more than fleeting touches, but that's exactly what the blonde was. He was a such a shy kid, absolutely nothing like Kenny, or Clyde, or Red, or anyone. Everything he did was unique to him, and the way his tongue swept back down to my collarbone reminded me of that. The way his breath accidentally blew against the trail of saliva, the moist heat slipping past the confines of his mouth. Nobody else had what he had, I recollected. He was nothing I'd experienced before, with all of his tentative licks and subdued kisses.

I didn't even know that my thumbs were sweeping across the apples of his cheeks until he turned his face away. His breathing was off and I liked being the cause of that. "U-uhm." He bit his lip again. I leaned down to retrieve it, drawing it from his mouth with the effect of my own. In an attempt to swallow, he turned away again. "I-uh. W-where should I put my hands?"

_He's so inexperienced._ I chuckled at his weak state of embarrassment. Honestly, Tweek could put his hands wherever the hell he wanted; it didn't matter. My body was beginning to turn sensitive so anything would feel good. The blonde was just being modest, asking for my opinion in case he did something wrong.

"You should... put your hands," I spoke in a low, sultry voice, a drawl in every word, "_right_", covering his hands on my midsection, I slid them up my chest, "here." His palms were splayed near my sides over my ribcage so he could feel me breathe. He gripped my torso hesitantly, glancing up at me again for reassurance. When I didn't offer him any, he decided for himself that that was good enough. And it was. I just wanted him to kiss me again.

"Uh-" _Holy fuck._ He had an impeccable sense of when to ask questions. "How do you... give someone a hickey?"

Tonguing the backs of my teeth, I drew away from him and rolled over onto my back. "Don't worry about it. I'm not interested any more."

His jaw dropped and he guffawed at me, but he was laughing. "What? That's not fair!"

"No. You want to know what's not fair? What you just asked me. Go figure out from Kenny or something, man. That's bullshit." Tweek shuffled up to my side and slapped a sloppy kiss against my shoulder. "Go away."

"I'm sorry," he giggled. "I'll get a lesson from Kenny."

"Never mind that. It's too late for you. You're doomed."

"You're so mean to me! It's not like I _don't_ know. I'm not _that_ stupid. I just want to be sure-"

"Yeah, well. You're a fucking idiot." I turned over onto my other side, but he was still there like a leech, pressing against my back. "Don't go to Kenny. I'll show you how one day. Right now I'm angry."

He continued to laugh at me.

* * *

><p>By six o'clock the sun was setting.<p>

Tweek and I had sat in my room all day, just my bed if you wanted to get technical, and did nothing. We hadn't even gone downstairs to eat. Nobody came up to check to see if we were alive, although Ruby knocked to see if her friend could come in and say hi—probably one that had a crush on me.

Somewhere in that timeline I received a text, but I never checked it. Instead, I had Tweek show me how he could lick his elbow and how double jointed his arms were. He reached his elbow from the inside, which I thought was cool, because the outside was easier to reach, and he locked his hands and twisted them all the way around his back to his front—still clasped. I forced him to do it a second time and kept my hands pressed against his shoulder blades so I could feel their disjointed movement as it progressed. It was one of the coolest things I'd ever felt. That and Clyde's boner.

That was a joke.

We talked about ice cream and movies since I thought the blonde's favorite flavors were weird, but he thought mine were even stranger. Except who thought mint chocolate chip was odd? If anything, people thought it was just gross. Tweek's favorite movie ended up being _Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King_, supposedly because Legolas was really sexy when he killed the elephant.

I was honestly shocked to hear that since I thought his favorite movie would be something along the lines of _Seabiscuit_ or _Free Willy_ or _Fern Gully_. Or maybe something with dogs or even possibly a Disney Channel movie. After that I kept calling him a tree elf, and told him that my favorite movie was _From Dusk Till Dawn_. Quentin Tarantino was the shit, although Tweek didn't share the same respects for the famous director. _Fight Club_ was a close second, along with _Grease_. To get back at me, the blonde called me John Travolta.

When the setting sun mark came along, I spoke up about walking him home. I didn't know why I was agreeing to go out into the cold, but he seemed adamant about checking to make sure the trees and the pavement were okay, so maybe that was the reason. It was just kind of cute how worked up he got over the inanimate objects. Also, I was probably losing it.

"Where the hell are my pants at?" I asked, scouring the near empty floor for jeans I did not see. Behind me, Tweek was hopping around in an attempt to stick his leg into his own jeans. And then I saw their faded color and thought that the blonde was more fashionable than that. "Bro, you're jacking my pants." Pausing, he looked down for what must've been the first time at what he was sticking his leg into.

"I thought they felt a little loose," he mused, tossing them toward me. And then he cracked up laughing. The sound of his laughter made me smile even though I didn't want to because I had the distinct feeling he was laughing at _me_.

"What?"

Just as I made to pull my jeans on, he cried out, "Wait! Stop, stop, stop!" I paused for him to ask, "Where are mine at?" He looked funny wandering around my room in a pair of boxers, genuinely confused.

"Stripe probably ate them."

"I highly doubt that, John," he remarked skeptically, but I caught the accusative glance he shot toward my guinea pig. I snickered, watching him work his soft green cardigan over his head; the sleeves would protect him from the cold. As I threw on my own shirt, still pantless, I inspected its short sleeves and deemed it necessary to throw on a dark jacket.

"Still can't find your pants?" I asked, now somewhat curious when I found him standing around in his boxers still.

"I think you stole them," he decided.

Scoffing I said, "Yeah, because my fatass legs will fit into your skinny ass pants. My calf wouldn't even make it past the thigh, dude." He lost his hardened features and began to search the ground again. Meeting him at my bed, I grabbed a handful of the sheets and flung them to the opposite side. Beneath the overhanging layers that had been covering the floor were his jeans. "There you go."

"Thank you," he said happily, appeased at having not lost another article. I was referring back to the time he'd 'lost' his boots.

"I hope you don't lose things often," I teased. "You suck at finding them."

"I never lose anything," he rebutted, glaring up at me as he buttoned his jeans. _Wonderful. Another issue of his._ He was a neat freak. Probably a germaphobe. Took sleeping pills. Owned adderall. Had something else to stop his jitters. What the hell was wrong with this kid?

"Alright." I ignored him. "So, are you making me walk you home in undies or what?"

He started giggling and pulled his phone from his pocket. "Just stay still, okay?" Holding his phone up, he pointed it toward me. This little fuck was taking a picture of me in my underwear.

"You sure you don't want me to pose?" Answering for him, I crossed my legs and leaned the majority of my weight against my door. Tweek fell into hysterics, almost losing his phone when it tumbled between his fumbling fingers.

"You just look so cute in your little button-up and briefs." Good god, what was I doing with this kid in my life? "Undo the top buttons. Oh god- this is great. You look like you're trying to woo a pedophile. No, never mind. You _are_ the pedophile." I just stared at him with a grin more sweet than bitter and swiftly parted the top of my shirt to reveal a section of my chest. He had just enough time to take the picture before he careened forward with chimes of laughter.

Something about how ridiculously happy he was, even if it was humor at my expense, just felt _neat_. Like right now was just a really good moment. I felt connected to him, and thought that today had been a nice day. A very nice day. It was on my list of favorites along with the day I got Stripe and the day I invented Spaceman Craig.

Smirking I said, "Get over here." Because I didn't feel like moving from my perch at the door.

With a gargantuan smile that lit up Tweek's face and caused his eyes to sparkle, the blonde stumbled forward, still sputtering out bits and pieces of laughter that practically jangled against my ear drums. Maybe he felt the same connectedness that I felt, because for once he didn't hesitate. He sidled right up to me and rose to his tip-toes. His arms encircled my neck and his thighs pressed against mine as he leaned into me. I didn't kiss him and he didn't kiss me. Instead, we just kind of inspected each other.

A cheeky grin contorted my features as I deemed his sparkle one of fondness. He was looking up at me adoringly, rosy cheeks exhibiting humble secrets, and I knew that he admired me. I felt like testing this new boundary—never before had he looked at me so unabashedly—by lifting a hand to cradle one of his glowing chipmunk cheeks. His head tilted against my palm and his eyelids did a butterfly flutter, not shyly but _flirtatiously_.

Tweek was so full of surprises sometimes. I didn't know what brought this coquettish side of him out, but I found myself rather intrigued by it. He took his bottom lip between his teeth in a teasing manner, ensnaring me with his tender-looking bite. Straightening my pose freed my other arm, and with it I traced the supple curve of his mouth with the pad of my thumb. The flirtatious manner of his mood took kindly to my action for he cupped one side of my throat, nearest my jaw, and traced his fingers across the nape of my neck. My body instinctively hunkered forward, finding us huddled close together.

We breathed the same air and I caught the scent of his freshly brushed teeth, the mint and the warmth. His eyes were rich with a delicate sweetness I'd never seen before. The unmistakably vibrant color belonging to them matched quite nicely with the emotions drowning in his gaze. He drew me closer by my nape, stepping higher to reach me. Against my lips he nuzzled our mouths together.

The corners of my lips curled. "You're really getting into this, aren't you?" I encompassed his face between my hands and twisted my fingers in the tangled locks of his unkempt hair. He hummed, licking his lips in a dauntingly slow motion. "Now you're just trying to tease me."

"Is it working?" He whispered, a fresh beacon of glittering light erupting in his eyes.

"I don't know," I mumbled. "Want me to throw you on my bed and find out?"

Gawking, Tweek's blush turned radiant. "You..." He pondered, disbelievingly. "Why are you so sexual? You're supposed to find stuff like this unappealing."

"Was that an okay? Or are you playing hard to get?" I teased.

"Oh, don't worry. You haven't seen me play hard to get yet." I couldn't gawk like he had. There was some part of me that was just physically incapable of doing so, and the only other way to release my sudden shock was to be playful. How surprised ogle turned into playful growl I had no idea, but it happened, and I slipped my arms around the blonde's waste and hoisted him up.

His laugh was delighted and his legs wrapped tightly around my waist. A hand slid into my hair and Tweek's mouth meshed with my own. I gripped his thighs, squeezing their petite forms while lightly sucking on his bottom lip. He tilted his head, pressed closer. Harder. His teeth snagged my skin, nipping without restraint. Against my hips, his limbs clenched.

This position had happened once before, but not like this. We had simply pecked then. This was not a simple peck; not even close. The blonde's free hand slipped from my shoulders, hand dropping to my collar. His fingers scrabbled, scraping against the bone. A flash of heat grabbed the base of my spine and my hand moved under direct orders from my body, not my brain. Palm slipping up the dainty length of his thigh, I grabbed his ass and crushed his body against mine.

A gasp ruptured our kiss, and Tweek hiked himself higher upon my hips and for a moment there was a firm, significant rub that I didn't even have time to process before the blonde collected his hand into a sharp fist and impaled my chest with one quick blow. I dropped him the second the pain registered.

"I'm so sorry!" He cried from the floor. "Y-you grabbed my butt! I didn't know what to do!"

_You grabbed my butt_, I repeated in my head. I had a hand over my chest, rubbing the reddening area that was post-victim to Tweek's assault. _And he didn't know what to do, so he hit me._

"I'm just going to put on my pants now," I said quite monotonously. His punch knocked all of the emotion right out of me.

"C-Craig, I am so so _so_ sorry." He snatched up his boots, strapped them on, and hurriedly followed me out of my room and down the stairs.

"It's cool." And honestly, it was. It was a good thing he punched me, or rather, it was a good thing he stopped me. I was just going to leave it at that because I didn't want to think about it.

No one was downstairs even though it was their day off. My mom and dad were obviously out and Ruby was upstairs watching TV with her friend. It occurred to me then that today had been the easiest day of my life. I spent it in bed with my best friend after waking up late and wouldn't even have to communicate with my family for the rest of the night.

"Come on, buddy. The trees and the pavement need your help," I called. Tweek was taking some side adventure or something as he followed me, seeing as it was taking him an awfully long time to catch up. And I was even holding the door open for him.

"I'm coming, dude!" He popped up from around the corner and came down the entrance hall. "I forgot my backpack and you're legs are really long. You take like, three Tweek steps for every Craig step. Did I mention I'm sorry?"

A fond smile met my face, and the two greeted each other since it wasn't often that they got to spend time together. The blonde didn't see my expression as he'd already passed when my expression went soft, but my next words were explanatory enough as they were, "Now you're just being cute".

He spared a backwards glance, biting his lip to keep from smiling. He'd bitten his lip moments ago for completely different reasons.

"So is everything as you remembered?" I asked, meaning the suffocating inanimate objects that meant something to Tweek. He looked around and so did I, and I noticed just how much snow was piling up, and possibly saw what the blonde was worried about, except this was nature and everything was okay.

Tweek was just being a weirdo, and I didn't mind that he chose to ignore me, since I was just teasing him anyways.

The cold was bitter but it wasn't harsh, and the snow was biting but it didn't hurt. This was a calmer day, one for a gentle snowfall and enough wind to push it into piles. The blonde was staring, watching everything as it moved. When an animal crossed, he'd keep his eye on it. When an nonuniform snowflake fell, he'd make sure it landed safely. When a car drove by, he'd practically run into my side to make sure it didn't hit him even though it wasn't close enough to do so.

It was almost like he was sharing a moment with his surroundings. If he took care of it, it would take care of him. He had a karma complex. Everything he did had an effect on him personally, and he was scared that if he did something harmful, he'd get something negative in return. Except his belief was a fallacy. He'd been _born_ and look at what he'd been given. A ton of quirks and medicine to mute his tics.

The blonde just tried so hard to do everything the way he thought he was supposed to. Life wasn't meant to be so complicated, though. While I stared at him stare at the world in a completely different way, I felt like I wanted things to change. I wanted him to see things the way I saw them, that way he'd know he didn't have to put such an effort into these useless ideas of his.

"Hey," I started, attempting to break through his trance. If I could get his mind to wander, things would be easier for him.

"Hmm?" He gave me his attention, and already he looked like there was less of a burden on his shoulders.

"Can you talk with a lisp for me, please?" I gave him a hopeful smile to let him know I wasn't joking.

He deadpanned, "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"I fucking hate you, Craig." As he sighed, I gave him a devilish smirk.

Tweek stopped walking and cocked a hip. It looked fairly realistic due to his slim jeans and somewhat feminine cardigan—the one in my closet was so much manlier. It was just that the fabric, and color, and shape, and all of that mattered and Tweek's clothing choice was literally the epitome of buttsex.

He snapped his fingers to which I was already laughing before he even had a chance to exclaim with crystal clarity, "Hey guyth." His stereotypically homosexual accent was _perfect_. "That totally thparkles with me."

"Oh, I'm not inviting you anywhere with a voice like that."

"Thu-Shut up, asshole." I received a punch in the arm, but nothing could cover up the way he'd lisped out 'shut' on reflex.

"_Thut up, asshole_."

"Don't mock me." Laughing, I grabbed him from around the shoulder and strung him against my chest. He fell into the movement obediently, gripping the sides of my jacket to steady himself when he got a little too flimsy against my control. The cold was a bit more bearable next to whatever warmth the blonde managed to radiate from his short stature, so I kept him close and refused to let him go.

Standing there, his cheek against my chest, I remembered that Christmas had come and gone. Around us, neighborhood houses were still strung with lights and they twinkled vibrant colors in the dimming light of dusk. They cast blue, green, and red hues onto the snow and tinted the pure white flakes a different shade for every individual, glowing orb. In some of the houses you could see the cliche image of a decorated tree through an unveiled window. The sight was only meaningful in story books, though. It was more like a gimmick in real life.

That made me think of my house and its little-to-no decoration at all. We had a snowman poster hanging in our living room and that was about as spiffy as things got. Also, Ruby played a Christmas song for about five seconds before she realized what it was and quickly changed the station on her stereo. A tree hadn't even been worth it this year and my mom had wrapped presents with newspaper. I had asked for money and a gift card for Petco so I could get Stripe a new leash and that was all.

My grandpa had sent me a toy race car set because he was too old to understand that I wasn't young anymore. I was okay with that though, because Ruby ended up getting three brand spanking new tubes of toothpaste. All in all, Christmas this year had been a good laugh. It made me curious to know how Tweek's had been, since we never really talked about it. The deepest we'd gone into that conversation had been:

_"You celebrate Christmas?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Cool. Me too."_

The last time I saw his house it hadn't been decorated, but maybe the Tweaks liked to do things last minute, or maybe it was the coffeehouse that held their Christmas spirit.

"Aren't you w-worried that someone's going to walk by and see us? Someone we know?" The blonde had a point. We lived in a tightly wound town; certainly, it was only a matter of time until Kenny, or Wendy, or Cartman came around and witnessed our little predicament. But who was I to care?

"And what do you expect to happen if they do? We're hugging it out like bros, Tweek. Nobody but paranoid fucks like you will suspect a thing." I turned my face down toward him, catching his eye as he looked up.

"Is that really what this looks like?" He asked, eyes clear and innocent in his honesty.

"Why? What is it supposed to look like?" My inquiry was a teasing remark. "Like..." I pondered, "we're being intimate?" His cheek's turned pink and matched the reddening tip of his nose. "Like we're flirting?" He cast his eyes away at my second guess, only the loss of eye contact did nothing to alleviate his embarrassment. "Like we're... dating?" That gesticulation hit the core of his shyness on point and his breath caught, white puffs in the air disappearing for the beat of a second to prove it.

"It's not like _you're_ out of the closet," the blonde shot back in a fit of defense. "It wouldn't be unusual to see me 'hugging it out' with a dude."

Laughing—and I was starting to get worried that I was turning into my dad by the way it was a belly laugh—I informed Tweek, "I don't recall ever being gay, tree elf."

He set his jaw, looking back up at me with a fake smile. "Then what do _you _call this, John?"

"You really need to stop calling me that," I chuckled. "I call this being a great friend by giving you all the goddamn kisses your needy, little heart desires. But remember I'm done doing stuff for you after Christmas break is over." Or so I kept telling myself. But really, what was the point in stopping something if I was having fun doing it?

Tweek rolled his eyes and snuck away although he kept one hand latched on my jacket, dragging me after him down the snow-spotted sidewalk. "We both know that's not going to happen," he said. That edge was in his voice again, the one that said 'you're going to listen to me because I want this', and automatically my conscious was in a fucking kinky porno or something because it was like 'yes, master'.

"Give me a break, dude. You always do this to me." My sigh was sarcastic, but the blonde cut his pace as though I actually needed an emotional rest—one that I'd somehow achieve by slowing down.

"Do what?" He sounded like he really didn't know but that was hard to believe. He did it _all_ the time. _All the motherfucking time. _I never got a break because of this kid's random whims, supposedly ones he didn't even know he was issuing. How could anyone with _that_ specific tone of voice _not_ know what they were doing? Bullshit.

"_You know_," I described. "That thing you do with your voice." And that was about as good as the explanation got.

"Uh, no." Tweek giggled nervously. "I don't know what you're trying to get at, man."

"That thing you do with your voice," I emphasized. "You know?" We stopped walking again and I knew I'd be lucky if we made it to his house by midnight.

"Uh _no_," he repeated. "I really don't."

"Well, you tell me to do certain things sometimes and I do it because of the way your voice sounds. You're like my mom or something when you talk like that. I almost shit my pants I get so scared." He laughed at that like I was lying or telling a hilarious joke.

"I don't have a voice other than this one."

"Oh yeah you do, dude. Why do you think I take your boots off for you? Or give you piggyback rides? Or massages or milkshakes? Or make you coffee? I do that for you without having to be told to now because I know in your head you're like '_do it now_'. That's how bad it is. I'm starting to do this shit _naturally_." Again he laughed, and I didn't think I'd ever seen him laugh so much or look so happy doing it.

"Really?" I nodded my head, grimacing at the vulnerable position I'd just shoved myself into. He was going to use it against me, I already knew it. _Fucked my own self over this time, I guess._

Letting go of my jacket, he continued to hold out his arm, ordering a contrite, "Hold my hand."

This time it was my turn to laugh, and the look he gave me reminded me of someone who told their dog to go outside but instead they peed on the carpet by their shoes.

"You can't do it like that," I snickered. "You have to use the voice."

"What voice?" Quickly, he tried again. "_Hold my hand._" His outstretched palm shook like a bobbing worm to fish.

Maybe I actually just helped myself, I thought. "God, you suck at this now."

Frustrated, the blonde dropped his limb to his side. "I want you to hold my hand," he mumbled, and I was pretty sure my heart started bleeding. _There_ was that sly note, that delicate sound that irked me into uncontrollable action. Lifting up that hand of his before it fell too far, I twined our fingers together until our palms were snug together and a small ball of warmth was huddling between our grasps. Tweek's head snapped up, shock evident on his features. My lips morphed into a crooked smirk.

"It worked that time," I explained simply. The blonde nodded his head, blushing before he turned his face away. His fingers knotted tighter against mine and we began to walk again. "I don't think we'll be explaining this one very well. Bros holding it out sounds about as gay as it can get."

The blonde laughed, but there was very little humor in it. He looked on edge, not about someone seeing us, or of the fact that he did indeed have an estrange other voice that worked wonders to do me in, but that I was actually holding his hand. I didn't understand why it was so surprising, I mean, sometimes—when the moment called for it—I held Clyde or Token's hands.

This was probably his greatest fantasy come true since he had a bigass crush on me and all. Poor kid was probably jizzing in his pants, and I almost checked just to see if he was, but I didn't want him creaming in my face for being so close to his crotchal areola.

"So how was-" came out about the same time as "I really-", and we gave each other a pointed glare to physically show how we weren't happy for being interrupted. Just as fast I got out, "Go ahead. Mine was just pointless small talk."

Blushing, Tweek said quietly, "Mine was just stupid."

"You're blushing. You have to tell me now." He glared again, but it was weak, so I raised my brows in insistence.

"I just-" Dashing his eyes away, he continued, "I was just going to s-say that you have nice hands or something." _Or something?_ When I cracked a smile, he tried to cover his trail. "I didn't know what else to say! I-I just wanted to start a conversation..."

"About my hands?" I could see that my jibe was loosing him. He was trying to slip his hand out of mine. "Alright, alright. You want to start a conversation? Tell me what else is nice about me." Because I was honestly curious. This kid had a huge crush on me, but why? I was a dick. I taunted him. I was a retard, antisocial, and was a creep over my guinea pig who was probably like, a hundred and five years old by now. There wasn't much to like.

Unlike Token, I had no money. Clyde had all the charm in the world whereas I had about a fourth of a percent of his and that was when I was lucky. Hearing this from the blonde would be interesting.

"I'd rather not."

"Yeah, well you're going to."

"No, I really don't think I am."

"Oh, well then let me inform you that you are."

Our comebacks shot each other down and came back with a vengeance. Tweek was getting quite good at being a smart ass, but I practiced my unrelenting willpower with Stripe on lonely nights specifically for situations like this. He was fighting a punching bag with a rounded bottom—the kind that always came back. It didn't take long for him to notice that, and if his own realization wasn't enough, I continued to pester him with all the monotony I could muster until he finally snapped.

"Okay, dude!" He whipped my arm around like it was a chew toy in order to shut me up. I snickered at his peeved antic. "I get it! I'll own up to all of the things I like about you but I _do not_ have a crush on you. You got that?" Before I could decline, he muttered, "Of course you don't." And then I smiled, because we were getting to know each other very, very well.

"Start yappin'," I jeered, uncharacteristically excited to hear his confessions. This was going to be so entertaining, I almost couldn't contain my suspense. I kept myself together in the form of clenching my teeth, though.

Practically drudging through illusive mulch now, the blonde sagged a few steps behind me and made a noise like the end of the world was approaching from the front. It was like he didn't want to continue forward anymore, but I pulled him along behind me. He was probably thinking that if he got far enough away from me, I wouldn't be able to hear him. Today was just going to suck for him, then.

"I uhm... well, you already know that I like how tall you are. Y-you know?" He was so embarrassed. I nodded my head, biting the inside of my cheek at his shy attempt at complimentary language. "A-and your hands. They're b-bigger than mine_—so it's not just _your_ hands_. If anybody has bigger hands than me, I-I like them. I think."

Groaning, he continued with, "Uh. Your uh- your eyes are n-nice. Or pretty. Like, their color. Damn it, dude. Why are you making me do this?" Attempting to play at apathy and not like I wanted to laugh at him, I motioned for him to carry on.

He took a deep breath and I don't believe I ever heard him let it out. "You look good all the time." _Yeah, that sounds about accurate._ "And I like your shoes, and your full name. You smell really nice. You _adore_ Stripe and it's really, _really_ cute, dude. Like, you have no idea how sweet that is." Maybe it was just the mention of my guinea pig, but something about that tugged on my heartstrings. "Sometimes you get this bit of scruff on your jaw, and it's really attractive. I don't know why. It's just manly, so, you know." No, I didn't.

"I just- I don't know. Your features are very..." He sounded lost, like all of his thoughts were rushing to the top of his head and he didn't quite know what to do with them. "They're very handsome. And you're tall." His repetition caused me to snicker. He obviously _really_ liked my height. "There's just a lot of things that I- damn it. I don't have a stupid crush on you, Craig!"

Smacking me with his free arm, he bit his lip through his smile and beat me over the head. Ducking away, I didn't get far before his offending limb came back around. He wrestled with my arm, lugging me closer so he could get a better shot. I allowed him to tug me toward him and used our close distance to grab him around the waist. He cried out in a bout of laughter, thrashing a ferocious fist against my back when I thrust him into the air, into my arms.

Something about "put me down" kept leaving his mouth, but he sounded like he was in a good mood, so I didn't relinquish my hold. His beating fist turned into pinches that started at my neck and clung like scorpion stingers or bee buzzers. I couldn't shake him off since both of my arms were occupied. Instead, I bit at his fingers to stop their piercing, second-long zips of pain. He giggled at my lousy counterattack.

My love-deprived pout must have got to him or something, because the next time he touched me, it wasn't to pinch. His hands smoothed out across my throat and pet at the tender, now pink-marked, flesh. The blonde cooed in a teasing manner, prodding at my pussy attitude. But I was going to be a good sport, unlike him, and take his jeers like a man.

"So do you like it when I manhandle you, too?" I chuckled, finding that I quite liked the way his fingers slid up to my hairline. They delved beneath my locks as he rested his forehead against mine. Our noses touched briefly. His breath fanned across my mouth, heat surrounding my lips. Around my hips, his legs tightened, thighs pressed taught against my sides. Had we not been outside, I would've reacted differently than I was now to his petite thighs squeezing me so snugly. It was too much like before.

"Maybe," he whispered, half snickering. His hands ran gentle lines through my hair, blocking out the snow and the wind and anything that wanted to penetrate our strangely isolated connection.

"Well, it's good to know that essentially what you've been saying is that I'm you're type." I started down the sidewalk again, trying to save some daylight even though it was futile. I'd be walking home in the dark.

"What?" He barked, nearly muting my ears with the volume of his voice. "I wouldn't go _that_ far." As if to redeem himself, he suddenly said, "Clyde's attractive too, you know. And Kenny's gorgeous. Butters is adorable-"

"Hey, don't worry. If I liked guys, you'd be my type too."

"O-oh." Tweek's lips tugged downwards as he said the short syllable, but it wasn't in a frown. It was more like a shocked sense of flattery. "R-really?"

"Sure. We get along, I like your clothes, you're soft and short. Blondes are cool too. It's nice to know that I'd have a chance." Winking, I wrapped my arms more securely around his slim figure. I was pretty sure his legs were slipping, having lost their grip. This kid had no self esteem.

His voice was barely a croak. "I'm soft?"

"Yeah. You know, like a girl. If I ever got with anyone, it definitely wouldn't be some macho fuck that'll do me up the butt. I'd rather have something nice and soft and easy, or something like that. I actually don't know what the fuck I'm saying, but I think that's about the gist of it."

Tweek smiled modestly, a sprinkle of pink appearing on his cheeks. "Nobody has ever said that about me."

"I sure hope not. That'd make me feel pretty lame. I thought I was being pretty original there, ya know?" His smile stretched and his eyes were flashing from my eyes to my mouth. That rapid movement was slowly beginning to allure me the more he did, like the first time it happened in my room I didn't think I got this dry of a mouth or wanted to kiss him quite as bad.

"You should walk faster," he suggested. "There's not going to be any explanation at all if someone catches us kissing." The corner of his mouth lifted at his own joke, and it took me a second to find my feet again, only to realize that they'd never lost their stride.

"Maybe you shouldn't have stopped so much. We would've been to your house by now if you hadn't."

"Shut up," he murmured—without the lisp. He pushed the hair away from my face, brushing my bangs from my forehead. His palms cupped my cheeks and his thumbs ran along my jawline. I wondered if the stubble was there, the stubble he found attractive and manly. Unable to watch where I was going anymore, I concentrated on his face because he was tilting it like he was going to kiss me. My pulse jumped, dying quickly when he stopped himself.

"I really don't think it's going to matter if we kiss or not. Either way we look gay as fuck," I said. His lips quirked, but he didn't budge. His fear must've been too great, but that was alright I guessed, since his house would be coming up soon.

The entire rest of the way Tweek wouldn't stop messing with my mouth. He liked to squeeze my cheeks between his palms, and do that thing where you ran your fingers up and down your lips really fast until that weird noise came out. He even went as far as to give me Asian eyes and call me Kevin Stoley, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

And then he started to hold his hand out until it caught the cold and pressed it against my neck. The pained faces I made amused him, and when I began to grow immune, he'd put his hand down my shirt against my back where the sting was even worse.

Perhaps I provided more humor for him than he did for me. I wasn't sure when that change had happened, but it did.

"You're a prude little fucker, you know that?" I growled, practically kicking open his goddamn front door when he wouldn't help me open it. But of course he wouldn't since he was too involved in putting his frozen hands like ice cubes down my shirt instead. I was going to show him how it was done when I put fucking ice cream down his stupid tight jeans when he least expected it. Shithead would understand how torturous that was when it happened to him.

He continued to laugh, forcing me to carry him out into the living room where I practically had to rip him off of me. He landed on the couch, tipping over onto his side after bubbling over with humor. This was probably the most annoying I'd ever seen him, but it wasn't the annoying that pissed me off. It was the annoying that was cute and made me want to entertain him more, for whatever reason. Sometimes I got like that with Clyde. Like I wanted to shoot him and keep him happy at the same time.

To be completely honest, I think I was just a little pissed that he hadn't kissed me. He wasn't being annoying, he was just being Tweek, but I wanted to think he was because I was throwing a hissy fit in my head. Maybe this did need to stop after Christmas break. _Yeah, no. Hahahaha. Good one, Craig._

"Get over here, you little shit." Bending my knees to the edge of the couch, I grabbed the blonde's arms and flung him forward. His laughter caught and he stared up at me, eyes glowing vibrantly. His wrists twisted, so I let them go and dropped my hands to his sides, cradling his torso. He leaned up, grabbing each of my shoulders. Before his face inched too close I asked, "Are your parents home?"

The shake of his head was an instant catalyst, and my body loomed over his, devouring him in my shadow. He swallowed, leveraging me down until our mouths touched. I was promptly aware that this kiss was different from the others. Something about it wasn't close enough or fast enough and it didn't satisfy whatever I was feeling. The others had taken time; but maybe that was just it. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to wait for his mouth to open, to take my jacket off, to waste valuable minutes of my life by fucking around. We _always_ did that and we _always_ got interrupted.

Tweek was on his knees, inhaling sharply. He maneuvered his grip around my neck to tie us together. I told him what I wanted by way of hand as they coiled around his waist, sharply curving around his petite frame, pulling further and further until there was no where else to go and he pitched backwards, falling clumsily onto his back. The beat of his breath picked up as he stared up at me, his position quite obvious. He looked wary, but there was no way he could want me to stop.

Kneeling above him, I shifted one of his knees to the side so he didn't try to gut me when I leaned over. His little leg was shaking in my grasp. With a smirk, I pecked his lips and traced my palm down the contour of his outer-thigh. A whoosh of warm breath puffed against my mouth from Tweek's at the declining trail. I found his eyes and he ogled up at me with a wide, shocked stare.

Tilting my head, our mouths brushed briefly, producing a ticklish sensation. The blonde shivered, hands twitching back up to my shoulders. I nipped his bottom lip, willing him out of his precarious shell. His grip tightened involuntarily with the parting of his lips. My tongue slid between them, and as it pushed deeper, his teeth ran across my wet, slippery skin. I licked at his own, tempting him into reciprocation. His mouth opened further and nudged against mine, tongue delving out to press ours more securely together.

I clenched his thigh, digging my fingers into the fabric of his jeans. An internal click like an alternate power source turning on seemed to awaken within the blonde. His arms were around my neck again and I lowered onto my elbow, chest resting, rubbing, against Tweek's. The rise and fall of his ribcage was almost erratic, causing me to wonder how far he'd let me go before he had a heart attack.

The thought was enough to make me laugh, but before I could manage that, my hand—whether I meant for it to or not—dropped around the back of his thigh, so close to territory that held a completely different meaning when the situation wasn't just messing around and acting stupid. Territory that got be punched in the chest.

Tweek's hands bunched the back of my jacket viciously and his breath wobbled, but I suddenly couldn't wait for him to stabilize. It was that idea of taking too much time and for some reason I couldn't contemplate that at the moment. So I sidled closer, minimizing the space between ourselves, practically jumping at the chance to roll our tongues together.

Kissing back urgently, the blonde clung to my body, hugging my sides with his knees as though introducing separation would kill him. Our mouths had never been so fervent before, sucking and licking and biting. Tongues winding, the heat of his saliva coated my own. I could feel my lips quickly becoming overly sensitive and Tweek's growing swollen and flushed. His cheeks were warm, and as my palm started swaying across the back of his leg, rubbing from the joint of his knee down to the abrupt cut off at the curve of his ass, the language of his kiss became needy.

I could tell by the way his head turned in to mine, how he began to pant in intervals between our kisses, how the suction of each touch of our mouths grew stronger. His lithe leg shifted restlessly, compelling some strange form of excitement to erupt in the pit of my stomach. It was like my entire body wracked with shivers. Tweek caught the sudden movement, gasping into my mouth. Spurred by my reaction, his limb unceremoniously twisted around my back.

It was in that moment that I literally just wanted someone to punch me and knock me out so I could think _okay- shit, his motherfucking leg_, because this had never happened to me before. But that never happened, and I had no time to concentrate, so my body behaved without thought. I tore away from his mouth, adorning his jaw with multiple open-mouthed kisses. His head turned to the side in silent acceptance, resting against the pale, cushioned armrest, and it was that wracking feeling all over again.

My tongue lavished his neck and I sucked lightly on his skin in numerous places, anywhere I could reach. His shallow breath echoed in my ears. It was all I wanted to listen to. Removing my hand from his thigh, it traveled to his hip where I meant for it to run up his side, except my fingers caught his jacket, and I just went with it with no control whatsoever. Skin unfathomably hot beneath his clothing, my palm scoured across the length of his torso, practically bathing in his heat.

Tweek's breath was loud and shaky and I felt the vibration of it when my fingers found his ribs. God, I liked the feel of it. I liked the feel of everything. My teeth raked across the column of his throat just as I was beginning to feel a growl form in the back of my throat. And then the blonde's hands shot down, grabbing my arm to keep my exploring hand from moving.

"Wait!" He cried, the loud shriek ringing in my ears. "M-my parents! _Fuck_, my parents! They could walk in and- and _see_ us. Oh god, oh god. What are we doing?"

"Uh. I'm feeling you up." I muttered, mood disintegrating.

"On my _couch_- in the _living room_- right by the fucking _front door_, dude!" He shuffled backwards, sitting up with trembling limbs. I couldn't stop myself from staring at his neck with its pink, abused skin. _Good thing you didn't leave a hickey, retard._ Tweek would've flipped.

"I'm not even going to ask to go to your room," I sighed, sitting up and then falling back. There was no conviction left in me, and as my head hit the cushions, I tried to cool myself down. "When do your parents come home?"

"T-ten." Tweek bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself to keep from twitching.

"It's like fucking six, Tweek!" My voice hadn't risen in quite some time, and I realized that it was because I was frustrated. I was frustrated because I couldn't kiss him. Jesus Christ, I was a pussy. "That's a four hour window, dude." He flinched at my apparent irritation.

"I-I just... they don't know, man. I don't have parents like yours. They'll c-care if they find out I'm a f-fucking homo."

Pinching the bridge of my nose I repeated, "Four hour window, dude. Four hour window."

"I know, okay?" The blonde's tone turned livid for a second. "Time isn't simple when you're a paranoid mess, though!" As quickly as it arrived, it dispersed. He immediately dragged his hands through his messy hair and deflated, shrinking in on himself. "I'm sorry... I didn't want to stop. I'm just scared... You're not g-gay so you don't have to- you don't have to deal with this kind of stuff."

"Way to make me feel like a dick," I grumbled, sitting up on my elbows to see him. He was all curled up, legs drawn against his chest like a sleeping kitten. My frustration made him snap and that wasn't okay. He was right: he was paranoid, a mess, gay, his parents didn't know. It wasn't fair if I didn't take his situation into account—whatever the hell that meant. I usually didn't give a shit, but that didn't mean I wanted to ruin this kid's life by forcing his parents to find out he liked it up the butt.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"It wasn't your fault." Sitting the rest of the way up, I set one foot on the floor. The carpet was plush, and I noticed that I had never paid attention to the interior of Tweek's house before. So I took the time to look around his living room, to see where Tweek Tweak had been all his life.

Oddly, his house wasn't much different from the coffeehouse. It had a homely appearance with dark wood framing. The walls wore a cream-like color of paint, and numerous professionally photographed cups of coffee that actually made the beverage appear appetizing were hung in intervals. A few newspaper articles were framed and set up as well. I figured they documented the opening of Tweak Bros. or something similar.

All of the furniture was carved, polished wood and any fabric had a variation of the off-white shade coating the walls. Everything was meticulously organized; all objects had a place. From the television remotes to the cooking magazines. I wondered how much of it was Tweek's doing since he was a bit of a neat freak.

The smell of which the blonde owned must've come from his home, because I was catching a hint of it in the air. Perhaps if I went into the kitchen, it'd be stronger. I took note that there was no Christmas tree, and I thought to myself that that was probably due to the blonde's paranoia. He probably thought the tree holder would spring a leak and cause the floor boards beneath the cushy carpet to mold, or the lights would cause the tree to catch on fire and then his house would burn down.

"I told you to stop, though." His voice was quiet, just like the subtle aura resonating through out the quaint living room.

"Don't worry about it." And when I said that, I meant it. I really didn't want him freaking out over my temper tantrum. A thought manifested in the forefront of my mind, a thought of which I couldn't keep to myself. "Hey," I waited until he was looking at me, shyly but surely, "If you ever want me to stop, you know, like seriously, don't be afraid to say it."

His eyes widened and a startled look of understanding flitted across his owlish stare. He nodded rapidly, untangling his limbs to crawl toward me from the opposite end of the couch, chatting as he did so. "I wont- I mean I will! B-but I don't think I'll h-have to like, seriously. Did... did that make sense?"

Hearing it from him, the meaning suddenly sounded different, and I realized how that must've sounded to _him_ when I had said it. And he had just _agreed_. He could stop me whenever he wanted, but he had just said he wouldn't. So there wasn't going to be a stop? Ever? But you could only go so far. Had he just unintentionally said he wanted to have sex with me? This kid had a fucking monster crush on me! There was no way he could argue that point now.

"Oh yeah. Totally made sense," I snickered, although he didn't seem to understand why.

When he got close enough to reach, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and brought him snug against my chest. He breathed deeply, resting there, his head cradled into the crook of my neck.

"When are you going home?" He toyed with the edge of my jacket before moving my other arm for me, wrapping it around his other side so that I was hugging him. Or holding him. Yeah, I was holding him. I locked my hands but it wasn't like he was going to try to escape.

"Who knows. I might stick around to meet your parents. I'm still not positive they're real yet."

Tweek scoffed, squirming around until he had one leg stuck between our chests, the other throw across my thigh. His hands came up and brushed the stray strands of hair out of my face before cradling the bone of my jaw. I watched him as his gaze traveled softly over my features, taking in details I probably wouldn't notice myself. Sometimes his thumb would rub soothing lines across my skin, and once I caught his eyelids flutter when he focused on my mouth.

I'm not sure how long we were sitting like that, the blonde just analyzing me, but eventually one of his hands moved, sifting through my hair. I really liked it when he did that. I hadn't known I liked my hair to be messed with until Tweek came along. The running of his fingers increased, rubbing back and fourth along my scalp. I didn't even realize it when I hunched forward, could only pay attention to the constant motion of his massage. His other hand shifted, and I began to receive a duel sensation on both sides of my head.

A groan, quiet and barely audible, dispersed from my mouth. Making the noise seemed to duplicate the subdued feeling of Tweek's hands. Their placid movement traveled to the back of my head, and I apprehended quite lucidly that my head had fallen on the blonde's shoulder. I tried to mumble that this felt really good, but I was pretty sure that the only thing that came out with a bunch of garbled nonsense much like the moan.

Snickering, Tweek lowered his massage to the nape of my arched neck. _Oh, sweet mother of god._ My spine prickled. By some weird occurrence, the blonde's kneading fingers weren't necessarily putting me to sleep anymore. Instead, their roughed touch was beginning to entice me. A noise of louder volume slipped past my lips, but even so, his rubbing was insistent. _Very_ insistent.

His other hand squeezed earnestly at my shoulder. Fingers curling, his nails scraped against the very start of my spine, scratching the bone. I turned my head against his neck and pressed my lips to his throat. His body jerked, but he didn't stop, so neither did I. I sucked a section of his skin between my teeth and gently bit down. He tasted like salt when I swathed the light bite mark with my tongue. Closing my lips around the reddened area, he curled his fingers in unison around my nape.

Somewhere in all of that, I remembered that Tweek would see his parents tonight. What were they going to think when they saw a fucking hickey on his neck and the only person he was alone with was me?

Only when I pulled away did the blonde realize his own mistake. Gingerly removing his hands from my hair, he brought one to the side of his neck where an angry red mark had formed. It was about a halfway-hickey. A few more sucks and he would've been screwed.

"T-thanks." He smiled shyly.

"Don't thank me until the mark goes away-"

"There's a mark?"

"It's not a hickey," I reassured. "So calm your tits, dude. It's just red. Your skin's irritated."

His cheeks blossomed. "Oh, I don't think it's irritated."

My eyes narrowed with my grin. "Was that a sexual innuendo?"

"No! Well- not quite." Flopping onto his back, the blonde held his legs up to hide his blush. "Boots please." I automatically began to unzip them. "I like how quickly you're learning." Pretentious little fucker.

"So this has been your plan all along, huh?" Moving onto the next boot, I shot him a dirty look. He bit his lip but that didn't keep his laughter in.

"Maybe," he teased.

"Yeah, whatever." I kissed his ankle before throwing both of his boots to the side and his feet in my lap.

"You're really good at this."

Without an idea of what he was talking about I asked, "What?"

"The whole- I don't know what to call it. Like, don't get mad or make fun of me, but like- you know." I smirked as I listened to the blonde speak in tongues. His cheeks were lighting up again. My hands found his calves, cupping them as if to soothe his embarrassment, except that wasn't what I wanted. "The boyfriend thing," he finally said.

"Boyfriend thing?" I repeated, laughing incredulously.

"Y-yeah!" He responded enthusiastically, turning his face against the couch to hide at least half of his embarrassment. "You do the whole random kiss thing really well. Like, you just do it and it's perfect. I-... I don't know how to you time it so well. You've got that natural instinct or something."

I couldn't stop laughing. "I've got the natural boyfriend instinct?"

"N-no. I don't know... Maybe." Tweek rolled his eyes, gesturing toward my hands. "Like right now! You just do little things like that and it's really s-sweet or... nice or whatever. Stop laughing! I'm trying to be serious." His smile was humiliated.

"Alright, alright." Sobering up, I gazed down at him seriously. "What are you trying to say? Just spit it out."

"You'd make a really good boyfriend, okay?" He rushed out, trying to shake his legs out of my hold. I forced them to remain in my lap.

"Bullshit!" I exclaimed, laughing again. "My relationship skills _suck_."

The blonde was skeptical. "Oh really?" I nodded my head in answer to his challenge. "Then all the cute kisses and touches and that feel you tried to cop earlier are examples of bad relationship skills?" Honestly, I was a bit surprised that he spoke so openly about what ensued earlier without being modest.

"Hey, if I wanted to cop a feel I'd grab your crotch straight-up." _That_ made his modesty come out. "But thanks. I'll take that as a compliment. You're not too bad yourself." I winked down at him.

"Now _that_ is bullshit."

"No joke, dude. You're like a cuddle bug or something. It's sweet." He didn't believe me again, although the shade his cheeks were turning told me he was thinking about it. "Don't look at me like that. You _know _that you are a snuggling fiend."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He giggled, punching me in the chest with the toes of his foot. I grabbed the soul of his little appendage, threatening to bite his piggies off. "No!" He shook his leg, boiling with laughter when my open mouth inched closer. "Craig!"

Smirking snidely, I let his foot fall back into my lap. When it was safe from getting de-toed, I gripped his thighs and tugged him across the couch. He screamed at the sudden lurch, snickering when his butt landed on my lap, his legs wrapped around my waist. I almost made a comment on how far he could spread his legs, but it sounded harsh in my own head, so I didn't even want to know what it would sound like coming from my mouth.

Hands drumming against his legs I said, "So what would a good introduction be to the Mr. and Mrs.?" He jut his lips out in very technical thinking face, humming hushedly.

"Well..." His shoulders shrugged, but it didn't look like he was careless or didn't know. It was more like he didn't want to talk about them. "My parents are pretty- uhm. They're very air headed." I snorted to which he quickly cleared the confusion. "I mean, they're aloof. Kind of like they're not all there. Like they don't care, but they do. Maybe just stay away from being a smartass."

"Parents love me," I explained. "I've slept in the same bed as Red's mom before. And I'm pretty sure Clyde's dad is going to let me have a go at his wife."

He rolled his eyes. "Just think about where I inherited all of my quirks from."

"Alright. Don't be a sassy pant," I agreed. The blonde laughed at how quickly I changed my mind.

"Don't worry. You're charismatic enough to sway them to your liking." He paused, blushed, and cleared his throat. "I'm sure they'll like you just fine."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Shut up," Tweek mumbled, but he didn't say I was wrong.

Exaggeratedly grumpy, he lifted his arms and wiggled his fingers in a short attempt to reach my hands. I grabbed them, springing him forward. It was pretty sad that I only had to use a minimal amount of strength to haul forward his dead weight. As he rose, he puckered his lips, so I did the same with mine and met him halfway in a sloppy smooch.

Dropping back down in the same sack of dead weight, he admitted, "I just wanted to do that before my parents showed up." My heart pulsated loud and sharp for one quick beat before quieting down. "They'll be showing up soon. We should get up. Or turn the TV on. Or you can sit down here and Ill go up to my room so they definitely wont suspect anyth-"

I cut in bluntly with, "Are you listening to yourself?"

Groaning loudly, he covered his face and rolled around until his butt was sticking up in the air. I pat his rump encouragingly.

"Does your mom like to be flattered?" I wouldn't make a pass at her, but perhaps I'd flirt a little. So far, all of the moms I'd encountered in South Park took well to a charming, young, flirtatious soul. Unless I was friends with their daughter and they thought I was trying to butter them up. Red's parents hated me at first. And then they found out my penis was faulty. Her dad loved me after that.

The blonde peeked over his shoulder, brows practically raised to his hairline. "Seriously?" Like I was supposed to have studied his parents' personalities by now and know exactly what they did or didn't condone. "Try to compliment her and she'll ignore you. Her hearing is very selective."

Frowning I asked, "Then how does your dad make her feel pretty? Or get her in bed?"

"He doesn't." And I was sure Tweek would've left it like that, but one look at my dissatisfied face and he started to explain. "He used to. It stopped after I was born, though. Maybe I grossed them out."

"So you're telling me that your parents never have sex?" His cheeks glistened but he shook his head. "That's a lie, whether you know it or not."

"I'm serious!" He rolled back around and sat up. "Unless they're sneaking around in the storage room at the coffeehouse," the tone of his voice and the look that accompanied his words said that something like that was impossible, "then no." But I wasn't having that.

"Dude, I don't care who your parents are. If they're human, they're having sex."

"Do _your_ parents still hav-"

"Yes."

He squealed, "That's so gross, man! How do you even _know_ that?"

"I go on condom runs with my dad every now and then." I was a little ashamed to admit that. But seriously, it meant free snacks at the drugstore. What else was I supposed to do? Sometimes I got high and liked a variety instead of plain old macaroni and cheese. What was even worse was that Tweek looked ashamed for me as well. That was two types of ashamed. How embarrassing. "Yep. They like Trojan. He uh... He gets the Extra Large climax control lubricant-"

Tweek balked, shoving his fingers into his ears. "I don't want to hear it! Stop talking! Please stop talking! This is the same man who offered me ice cream last night!" He started making blubbering noises to effectively mute my voice, repeating "I cant hear you, I cant here you" over and over again.

Laughing I called out, "When they're feeling spicy-!"

"Who's feeling spicy?"

My head whipped around in time with Tweek's practically bulging eyes. At the front door stood a man, a frail women coming in behind him. _Tweek's parents_, I thought, just about the same time the petite blonde took a nose dive in the opposite direction to put as much distance between us as possible, going as far as to create spacious levels—me on the couch, him on the floor.

Using my uncanny ability to create excuses, I came up with, "My friends love tacos. When they're in a spicy mood, they eat them."

The man who was Tweek's dad nodded. He had a head full of trimmed brown curls, while his wife had a more copper shade in one of those soccer mom hairstyles. "Well, the next time they're feeling spicy, why don't you send them on down to Tweak Bros. We've got a great spiced latte." _Yeah, because when my mom and dad want to fuck, I'm definitely going to suggest they grab a cup of coffee first._

I couldn't exactly lie, so I came up with the next best thing: "Will do." And I seriously was. It was already in my agenda for tomorrow. I didn't really care whether my friends knew what the hell I was talking about or not. I'd even mention it to Kenny just to up the ante.

"You're not Thomas," his mom observed. Hell no I wasn't some gay kid with Tourettes.

As I got up, Tweek hissed and stared up at me with an order in his eyes. He wanted me to sit back down, probably remain incognito for the rest of the night. Or maybe he was telling me to get the fuck out of his house while the door was still open. _Too late_, I deduced, watching as his mom literally locked me inside.

Walking towards the two adults, I held my hand out and was rewarded with his father's handshake first. His grip was weightless—like I was holding a feather in my grasp. "Craig," I introduced. "Tweek's been tutoring me."

"Richard." We shook once before his hand fell away. "It's great to finally meet you. You've been like an illusive mystery to us for the past few weeks. Tweek's done nothing but talk, although everything he's said has made it quite hard to pinpoint who you were. You're the Tucker's son, right?" An illusive mystery? Maybe Tweek was right in saying his parents were odd.

A quick glance at the blonde and I saw his mortified, distress-stricken expression at the revelation of how he'd been talking—what must've been quite a bit—about me. He quickly turned his face to the floor, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"Yeah, I'm a Tucker." While I assured the man's diagnosis, I shook his wife's smaller hand. If his had been like a feather, then hers wasn't even there. She was staring up at me, green eyes like palm leaves, and their wide-set shape didn't go unnoticed by me. Neither did the slender curve of her brow, or the delicate tip of her nose. Tweek had definitely inherited most of his features from her, all the way down to their dainty bodies and short stature.

"My, you are tall." I chuckled humbly, letting her hand go before I saw the steaming cup of coffee held in the other. She peered around me, motioning for Tweek to come up. He pouted in all seriousness, not trying to be cute, and slowly inched his way over. His hands outstretched for the steaming brew and his mom smiled fondly, but the look was very airy like she wasn't quite paying attention, and I very much so realized what her son had meant when he'd described the pair as air-headed.

"T-thank you," he quickly mumbled, glancing up at his dad from where he stood in front of me. The man reached out and pat the blonde on the head like he was a pet, not their child. It was a strange exchange of parental love, and after that, he just kind of walked away. His random departure wasn't awkward; I just thought of him as a character in a video game that was instructed to perform another task and he would do that exact task right away, stopping whatever he had planned to do in the meantime.

Gasping densely, his mom turned back around to unlock the door. "I forgot," she mumbled, half incoherently, wandering off in that same video game-like way, except she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Her first instinct had been the kitchen, though. I had no idea where Tweek's dad went.

I spared a glance down at the blonde who quickly covered for her. "Sometimes she forgets that I like to lock the doors myself. Just so I know for sure that they're locked." Nervous, he dropped his eyes to his beverage then back up to mine. "You- Do you want some?"

"I don't like coffee, remember?" But for some reason I took the cup anyways, brought it to my lips, refused the instinctual urge to sniff, and took a vile sip. It got the blonde to laugh though, expelling some of his anxious energy. "Hey," I prompted, playing around with the idea of getting home. The moon had long since brimmed the mountains and I'd be stumbling in the dark the night before the first day of school. "I should probably get home. I need to pass out and rejuvenate for tomorrow."

Nodding, Tweek shuffled from foot to foot. I passed him his coffee, and he took it fast, knuckles straining against the pressure he was applying to the poor, flimsy cup. After reaching out, I pulled open the door and now I wasn't just walking home in the dark but the _cold_ dark. The blonde shivered at the intervening chill, abruptly aware of what it meant.

His fingers grappled for the cuff of my jacket and he said, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking when I asked you to walk me home. I-I wasn't thinking. I'm so stupid."

"Yeah, well, I knew. Don't worry about it." He stared up at me, imploring for a reason as to why I would know and not say a thing. I didn't have a good reason to give him.

He slipped out the door after me, shutting it as quietly as he could behind me so as not to catch his parents' ears. "Uhm..." We stood face to face and I was entertained by how nervous he was. With an odd jerking motion, he thrust his coffee into one hand and used the other to hug me, thrusting it firmly around my waist. Smirking, I wrapped mine around his shoulders and fell ill to the compulsion to kiss the top of his head of blonde locks of which I had no idea who he'd inherited them from.

A deep breath of his blew into my chest where his head was tucked, and even though he still held the coffee, he curled his other arm around me as well. The heat from the coffee cup bled through the fabric of my clothing. I wondered if he was excited for tomorrow, and I wondered if we were going to have any classes together, and I thought it was weird that I wanted to have a class with him because when had I ever wanted to share a class with Tweek Tweak? This entire friendship was still new and strange, but I think I liked it. It was different.

"Alright," I murmured. "I've gotta get out of here or else you'll keep me here all night." The blonde scoffed, lifting his head to peer up at me. Even in the dark the color of his eyes was vividly green. My gaze drooped toward his mouth, and as it did, I lowered my own in proposal. Rising to the tips of his toes, Tweek met my lips, his bottom caught between mine. The residue of coffee was stuck to his skin but I didn't mind.

"Do you have your schedule yet?" He asked, words tumbling against my mouth. I made a short _mnmnn_ sound and listened to the soft coo of his laughter. "How were you going to get to your classes then?" I shrugged my shoulders, not quite ready to break away from his lips just yet. "Do you want me to print yours out for you?" I hummed an affirmative, knocking the tips of our noses together.

"I'll pick you up in the morning. You can give it to me then." My hushed words were barely heard to my own ears.

"Okay." He smiled, and I could feel his lips stretch against mine. "Thomas'll be pissed I'm not walking with him, but that's fine."

"I can give him a ride too." The blonde shook his head. The decline honestly surprised me, since as of just the other day, he and the golden blonde were still best friends. But Tweek didn't act like they were in any sort of tiff, and kissed me on the cheek before pulling away, the smile lighting up his face, so I figured everything was okay. He was just being a little selfish.

"Bye Craig." He backed up into the door, tripping against the slight raise of the doorway, while almost losing his coffee to the ground. I knew he was blushing even in the dark.

"Goodnight Tweek," I chuckled, turning away.

* * *

><p>Merry Christmas everyone! I love you. This is the longest chapter yet, so you're welcome :P<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

**200th Reviewer Contest:** Be my 200th review and you'll get to control an entire chapter of Automaton! (:

(I'm still working on my 100th reviewer because theirs is a bit more complicated) I promise I won't leave you guys hanging though! Haha.

Oh, and all of you are brilliant. Perfect, brilliant readers.

**New Story:** The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows. I'd love for all of you to read it!

Annon2.0- That's not creepy at all! Thank you so much for being so vocal with your words (CAPS 4LIFE) hahahahaaha. I'm so honored to know that you want to lick walls when I update! Truly, I very much so am.

* * *

><p>Today I made my first mistake, but it wasn't necessarily my fault. It was my dad's, who failed warn me that I had company over.<p>

* * *

><p>I got out of school and it was horrible. It wasn't even the education that was a problem. Education was going to get me somewhere in life. Education was beneficial. It was the people that were a problem—a huge, indescribable problem. People like Stan Marsh that took Government the same time I did, or Mr. Garrison—who I was a teacher's aide for—that had an aura dripping with guess-who's-getting-raped-later. But worst of all, it was people like Cartman who showed up in my trigonometry class, because where Tweek got Kyle, I got fat fucks.<p>

And Kip Drordy in my computer class.

He wasn't even fat so much as he was a _fuck_ these days. No joke, age did wonderful things to his physical appearance, but he'd been rotten since birth. Of course good old Craig would get him in his first hour. A high level math class that he nearly failed last semester just wasn't enough. The school system had to up the ante and suddenly France, 300 pounds, Wendy and Jack—they were all so much closer than before.

I was so pissed about my predicament that I was thinking about myself in third person. That wasn't okay with me. The rest of my school year wasn't okay with me. The rest of my life was ruined. I was doomed to be a failure and it wasn't even my decision. It was the school system which had so lovingly screwed me over.

Oh, I was drowning in the love. I was so consumed by it that I had a fucking _boner_. A boner of rage and fury and I was going to take it out on Tweek seeing as he'd had the audacity to text me: _My schedule is perfect. I hear yours is full of shit. Hahaha. (:_

Nobody ridiculed me and got away without a few battle scars to show for it. Gay little blonde boys were no exception to that, especially ones that were assholes like Tweek. The kid got off on seeing me writhing in pain. I was starting to second guess the whole crush idea. Maybe he just wanted to murder me and was getting in good so I wouldn't suspect him.

_Yep, close enough_, I decided as I spotted his frenzy of blonde locks in the after-school bustle. He was by his locker with Thomas, and I reminisced the one time I'd found him in the exact same spot. The two times—currently and then—were very different occasions. Then, I wanted him back. Currently, I wanted him dead.

Thomas saw me but not before he had the chance to give a fair warning. No "Hi" or "Here comes Craig, Tweek". I grabbed the aforementioned asshole by the shoulder and flung him around like he was nothing more than some stupid whirligig. He would've swung around in my man-made wind too except the lockers blocked his flimsy twirl. His back hit the storage units with a rickety clack. My knuckles connected with a thudding reverberation beside his head, jarring him into a confused stupor.

Making sure that my stoic face flogged his vision, I anticipated patiently for him to return to reality. It took a mere set of seconds, but they were long-lived as I watched the dawning of realization contort his once pleased features. Where he used to be calm, he now exerted a wild sort of guard as though his subconscious had been laying in wait for an attack, and now that it was here, the rest of his rationality was attempting to catch up to his tense posture and flinching expression. I wouldn't hit him, but he was ready for just that.

When he blinked open his eyes, tentatively so, recognition registered in their unreasonably crystalline green depths. They were so rich and pure in color and his fear was so blatantly obvious. His fragile mask of brittle terror penetrated me to the point that I could barely bring myself to believe that he was gay, that he could ever be defiled, that he had anything to lose. He was like a virgin oracle, almost as bad as Butters. You just didn't think about him and dirt—anything from any origin that wasn't innocent—in the same thought process or sentence and they didn't correspond in any way at all. All of the reasons for his naivety couldn't fit on my fingers and yet he wanted everything so badly.

He wanted _me_ so badly, whether he knew it or not or was just trying to ignore his attraction. I followed the erratic movement of his eyes as they flickered over the apathy consuming my face, how they lingered on my mouth. Even when I was threatening he couldn't stop himself. His virtue shattered where I had idealized him in my mind. Tweek wasn't as innocent as his appearance led everyone on to believe. I was proof of that because I had been the catalyst to his impurity.

Some relentless surge of power boiled the blood in my veins and I felt indestructible knowing that I was the douche bag, the random douche bag who treated his friends like shit, his family like shit, and only cared about his guinea pig—I was the one who would corrupt him. Who had already begun to do so.

His skin was pale despite the vibrant intensity of his eyes and if I looked down I'd catch his hands shaking. He honestly thought that I was going to hurt him. It didn't matter that he hit me all the time and not once did I ever roughhouse him back like I would've Clyde or Token—even Red. None of that mattered because Tweek was a paranoid, medicated mess and everything that existed was a potential danger to him.

A lopsided smirk doused the indifference of my features into something less blank, something easier for him to read and get the gist of. I wasn't about to hurt him. Throw him over my shoulder and give him a swirly maybe, but nothing that would jeopardize our platonic relationship that I wasn't quite ready to give up. I was still having fun.

His sigh, bitter and choked, blew like a storm against my mouth. Quite viciously, he shoved my shoulder and ducked under the bridge of my arm. I grabbed his forearm and swung him around again, displeasing the curious crowd that had gathered when I gave him a bear hug and crushed him against my chest. He pounded on my shoulders, muffling cries against my jacket lapels. Instead of letting him go, I bent my knees and grabbed him around his waist. The only thing he had time for was to cry out before I returned to my original height. His legs immediately latched around my hips.

Reaching out, I grabbed Thomas's wrist and pulled one of them while carrying the other in the direction of the exit. Tweek insulted me over my shoulder but I let that one slide for scaring the shit out of him. It was his next comment, "I'm going to beat you so hard you'll cry", that would warrant a good ol' dick-slap later. I would get him by surprise and he wouldn't even expect it. Nobody expects a dick-slap. Especially homosexuals. They only hope.

Although I was distinctly aware of Thomas's fingers shifting until they intertwined with mine, I remained undeterred as I led them to my car. The only thing that got to me was the weather. It was snowing heavily and one of these days we'd be taking school off because of it.

"Oh, uhm-" Thomas stopped and our hands fell apart as though our connection had been strung together by the barest of threads. "I've got to—_shit_—I've got to meet Kenny. I forgot he's taking me home."

He sounded like he was spouting a load of bullshit. Like literally, someone took a shit in his mouth and as he was talking it was flying out, probably hitting me in the face or on my shoes or something. Who knows. All I knew was that obviously people didn't stop halfway through the parking lot, _in the fucking snow, _to say that they forgot they were getting a ride from someone else. And even if that, by some miracle, occurred, then whoever the person with the faulty memory was would be taking a ride from the nearest car, which was mine.

"W-what?" Tweek asked, coupling my theory on Thomas is a Dirty Liar. The golden blonde hurriedly waved us off with a rapid snippet to Tweek about calling him later and then promptly shuffled off in the opposite direction, supposedly to wherever Kenny was. He wasn't dressed for the weather, in nothing but a cardigan and cut-offs, something his little buddy in my arms wouldn't be caught dead wearing outside around this time of year.

The two of them were opposites and identical at the same time with their skittish habits. Thomas had definitely held my hand too which led me to believe that they were conspiring behind my back about tag-teaming me. They probably had it all planned out: get Craig by himself, get him naked, rape him, let him die in the cold after we've had our way with him. Mr. Garrison would find my dead body and do something nasty that would follow me into the afterlife and I was just all-out screwed.

Whimpering, the blonde stuck with me said, "He actually left me." Continuing the trek to my car, I smirked deviantly, and although there were a few people left in the parking lot, the only thing they wanted was to get to their own cars where the warmth would be abundant, so nobody would notice a little bit of debauchery if it took place right beneath their noses. "Don't even think about it, Craig." Tweek's voice was as cold as the snow biting into my skin when one of my hands made a go for his ass.

My smirk stretched into a snide grin as my fingers tickled up the underside of his thigh a little further. The blonde's face was already flushed from the cold but an undertone of life flourished beneath his chill. His knees pressed a hair closer and he took away my privileged of witnessing his expression when he buried his face in the crook of my neck. Where his breath touched my skin, the stark contrast between frost and warmth sent goosebumps racing across my flesh.

With my vehicle closing in I got a sly idea and idly mumbled, "You should get my keys for me." So as not to overwhelm him, I stopped making a pass for his rump and kept my hands firmly planted on his legs. He lifted his head, staring down at me with a mixture of impending doom and a hope that my keys weren't where he thought they were.

His breath was as visible as the smoke from a cigarette and I came close to shotgunning his own carbon dioxide as he asked, "W-where are they?" Curled beneath my chin where his hands, keeping warm. The blonde didn't seem to find my offer very appealing.

"One of my back pockets," I replied nonchalantly.

"In your back pocket?" He repeated, calmly incredulous. I nodded my head. His frown lasted as long as my next step before it dissolved into a daring sort of expression I hadn't seen him wear but one time. The time he tied that cherry stem with his tongue. "Alright, let me get your keys for you, Craig."

Oh yeah, that was totally code for, "Alright, just let me pull my knife out and shank you to death, Craig." I was going to die. Thomas was waiting around the corner for the right moment. Rape was imminent.

Slipping his arm around my torso, Tweek dragged it across my back precariously slow. His palm was a firm pressure heading toward the waistline of my jeans. "Are you going to tell me which one?" He asked, voice deceptively sweet. My brows rose at this uncharacteristic quality of his. "Or do I have to guess?" Beneath my skin, my pulse jogged.

"I'm a little scared now," I admitted, chuckling despite myself. "Why don't you try the left?"

Snow caught in the blonde's lashes, causing my brain to short-circuit. He looked positively _innocent_. Why the hell was he talking to me like he was some scandalous flirt?

"You're not a lefty." He told me, reaching for my left side anyways. His fingers slid into my pocket, followed by his palm. His head dipped, lips like slivers of ice against my neck. Around my shoulders his opposite arm tightened just as his dainty hand clasped around my keys—he was right about not being left-handed, but I'd thrown my keys into the first pocket I could after coming back from lunch—but not before he managed to artfully sneak in a grope to my ass.

I had never been so proud of anyone in my entire life.

Not many people could say that Tweek Tweak grabbed their butt, but I could. Man, I felt righteous. Whoever made up that saying about feeling like a million bucks—they had their ass squeezed by Tweek. There was no other way to describe the immense level of utter glory I felt to have rubbed off on him in such a way that he was now an ass-grabber. Indeed, I was impressed.

So much so that when I remarked on it, I could hear the dignity in my own voice. "You copped a feel on my ass."

He slumped in my arms. "I know," he whined, voice just a squeak of embarrassment.

"And now you're embarrassed?" I boasted, breaking out in laughter. It was such a gut wrenching laugh that I had to put him down because my limbs were giving out and I couldn't open up my car doors because every time I laughed, my entire body shook.

"Stop laughing!" His fist came out, connecting with the same cheek he previously physically hit on.

"You're not actually shy about it are you? What kind of person does that?" My body gave out on me and I collapsed in the passenger seat of my car while trying to shove my key into the ignition by bending backwards. "Here, let me grab your ass and then let me rip my balls off because I'm a bigass pussy." Tweek tried to intervene, but I wasn't done making fun of him yet. "My name is Tweek and I'm that bigass pussy. I like it up the butt; that's how much of a pussy I am." I even talked in one of those dopey voices just to rub it in.

"C-Craig! Shut the fuck up!" He attacked me then, and for a split second I saw my life flash before my eyes. Literally, ages birth till January 3rd sprang like a second-long dream in my head and I saw 18 years of Stripe come and go in that instantaneous moment. Tweek's delicate body was suddenly like a led weight as he crashed on top of me, and ghosts were working with him or something, because somehow the door shut behind him and I was locked in my car with a homosexual murderer.

Sprawled across the entire front section of my car, the blonde gagged me with his hand and I swore there was a knife in his hand—Thomas ran by the window too probably trying to find a way in, I fucking _swear_ it—but it turned out to be my keys instead, which he'd taken from me to plug into the ignition himself since I was obviously incapable of doing it on my own.

Stevie Nicks came through the radio and I thought it would be an honor to die with her singing in the background. But instead of suffocating me, Tweek met my eye with a stern look. "Are you going to be quiet when I take my hand away?" That was probably the most fluent I'd ever heard him speak. Usually there were slight shakes or hiccups whenever he spoke.

Nodding my head, the blonde removed his hand. His fingers slid down my chin and across my neck, just a featherlight touch. Raising my arms, I hung them limply across his back where he was situated between my legs. Something in one of the center drinking cup holders was digging into the small of my back. "This is kind of uncomfortable."

He didn't look peeved that I'd spoken, probably because it hadn't been a teasing remark. The blondes eyes followed his fingers as if he hadn't heard me. A soft zinging sound met my ears and I realized he was unzipping my jacket. Personally I didn't think it was warm enough to take my clothes off, but if he wanted me to, then I would. Tweek just had that weird sense of control over me.

"We can move to the back," he murmured, eyes still dropping as low as his hand. There was a lot of incentive in that suggestion and I wasn't sure if the blonde was aware of its conditions, while between our pressing stomachs, my jacket halves broke apart into two. His palm returned to my neck by traveling between the unzipped space, and although I still wore a shirt underneath, there was something about one less layer that really turned me on.

"How'd your balls grow back so fast?" I asked, unable to refrain from the coy inquiry.

Tweek was ready, though. "I don't know. Where did yours run off to?"

Oh, bitchtits. It was on. "You want to go to the back?" I asked, already flipping around with his own jacket caught in my hands. "Because we can go to the back." I was wedging myself between the two front seats and Tweek was following, tugged after me by the hold I had on his clothes.

He tumbled haphazardly against my chest, one leg caught between our bodies, the other framing my side. His arms were around my neck, limbs too small for the thick, gray hooded sweatshirt he wore. With a gentle hand, I grabbed his knee and carefully pushed it out of the way, a tender touch for his fragile figure. He let it drop, breath coming louder than the tick of the heater as he situated his position into a straddle.

"W-what if someone sees us?" Glancing shyly down at his side, he watched the path of my hand as it climbed the length of his arm. It rounded the curve of his shoulder and I tucked it underneath his sweater to rub the nape of his neck. He sagged forward a inch, just that much closer to my mouth.

"In this weather? I'm pretty sure we're the only ones left in the parking lot. If anybody does come by, it'll be a teacher." Which wasn't necessarily the smartest thing to say because Tweek instantly shut off, but I leaned in and kissed him anyways because his mouth just looked so lonely sitting there. His lips tasted cold but they didn't want to be, so I let them know I'd help them out with that. "Here," I offered, slanting sideways until my weight flopped us over. "All fixed. Nobody will know unless they press their face against the glass, and in that case, we've got a pervert on our hands. I'll protect you, though."

Our position, or at least mine, was much more comfortable without the center console digging into my spine. Tweek scoffed, "No you won't. You'll use me as bait." He'd softened up despite his words, and his neck was like putty in my fingers. Resting his forehead against mine, he allowed me more room to massage his skin. Except we'd already done that before and I wouldn't be massaging him until I got one back.

Tilting my chin up, I pecked his mouth. "Don't you have work today?" The blonde muttered against my lips. Why couldn't he just admit that he wanted to spend the rest of his life in the back of my car with me?

"Nope. They're probably going to lay me off or something." I wasn't interested in whether or not I a job. All I cared about at the moment was whether or not Tweek was going to fuck around with me or if this was just one of his little teases where he'd punch me and tell me to take him home.

"They're not going to lay you off." He rolled his eyes and the tips of our noses bumped. But I knew that. I was a vital part of the Dixxy's business. Craig Tucker just didn't walk into the workplace—Craig Tucker _owned_ the workplace. "Your coworkers _love_ you, dude. And you bring in more customers."

A smirk strolled to a stop on my mouth. I knew what that meant and the hint of annoyance he was attempting to hide in the folds of his tone just wasn't working out. "Your jealous that I attract the ladies." My observation caused him to grimace. It wasn't a good look on him. His lips were already set in a natural pout and the added downfall made him resemble a sad marionette.

During that second week of winter break, Tweek had visited me on numerous occasions while I was working. He said that the only reason he kept showing up was for the free food, but we both knew better than that. Food was at the bottom of his list seeing as he barely ate any of it unless it was dessert.

It was me he went to Dixxy's for. He watched me like a hawk inside of the quaint diner, ogling every time he thought I wasn't paying attention, keeping tabs on the tables I waited when a cute girl was present, or even a guy which was quite the laugh because he was gay and worried about stuff like that. I always placed him at the counter and he always swiveled back around in his stool as fast as I he could when I caught him spying.

He'd stay until my shift was over, and then he'd help me and Red clean up. The blonde was good at being a perfectionist: aligning chairs with tables, salt and pepper in their designated spots. When he didn't stay the night at my house, he made me stay out with him until he was about to pass out in the passenger seat of my car. On those particular nights I had to give him piggy-back rides up to his room. Ever since his first one, he just couldn't get enough of them. They were his favorite mode of transportation, but only when I was the pig. Red tried to give him one but he'd promptly gone into hysterics.

Tweek didn't look me in the eye when he grumbled, "It's not like I have anything to be jealous about." But even if he'd left it like that and didn't go off on his tangent I wouldn't have believed him. "Girls are allowed to stare you if they want. Or flirt, I don't care, I really don't. And you can flirt back, because I know you do." The more he talked, the more displeased his features turned.

"Actually, you just assume that I flirt-"

"Whore. You're a dirty slut."

I felt scandalous with slanderous names like those and the corners of my lips curled in satisfaction. "But really, the only time I flirt is when I want them to keep adding to their bill. Throw out some charm and they always get a dessert. Holla." My sarcasm was just delightful.

"Stop looking so conceited, you hussy. It makes me angry when you're happy." Despite my laughter, Tweek kept up his pissy attitude and I thought that this moment was probably his most successful attempt at a constant state of irritation.

"Everything I do makes you angry," I stated, giving him a pointed stare when he looked down at me skeptically. He tugged gently on the ends of my hair to busy his hands. "You don't like it when I make you coffee and it's not hot enough. You don't like it when I sing to you. You don't like it when I take my clothes off. You don't like it when I flirt with girls. You don't even like it when I flirt with _you_."

He rolled his eyes again and even used the two-finger air quotes when he said, "That's because your version of 'flirting' is to _ridicule_ me."

"I do not ridicule you." The worst thing I've ever said while trying to get my flirt on was probably when I called him both homosexual gay and derogatory gay because that was like a double beat-down. If we were wrestlers, that move would be equivalent to the Stink Face. Yeah, go look that shit up and enjoy that buttocks. "Oh, and you don't like it when I complain about my hair."

At my mention of the taboo subject, Tweek immediately shut in on himself. His features hardened, all without an ounce of remorse for my current dilemma regarding my long hair. If I were to kiss him to get a reaction out of him, he'd pretend to be a statue—literally.

Recently he'd been going through these stages where he went comatose just to teach me a lesson. He'd learned how to play dead by watching _Dinner for Shmucks_ with Steve Carell and just couldn't get over how smart the how-to-avert-getting-attacked technique was. The only thing was that he was using it to escape specific conversations.

But I had a sensible reason to complain, because my hair was no longer on the fence between 'fine' and 'alright, bro, it's time for you to go'. As of now, it was currently rocket launched over the latter and now all I wanted was a god damn haircut.

Like Kenny and Clyde when they were sex-deprived and in need of a good lay, I was in need of a good haircut. Terrible, terrible need, although Tweek thought anything but. When the blonde and I first began hanging out, my hair had just been chopped, but now—five months later—some bitches were about to get flipped. My locks were tickling every patch of skin on my neck and I was tempted to put it in a ponytail it was so aggravating, not that that would be a very useful remedy. Me at school, in public, by myself, with my hair up was a laughing matter.

The first and only time I'd mentioned a potential haircut, the blonde had tackled me to the ground before I could reach my car and stowed away with my keys. It'd taken me two days to find them. Since then I just never talked about it because who knows where my keys would end up next. Not at the bottom of the box of Honey Nut Cheerios like they had been. Two days of coincidental cereal for breakfast and snack-time and there they were in my bowl.

"You're not getting a haircut," he told me, commanded me, warned me. It was everything serious and steady with an undertone of, "I swear to God if you go behind my back and get a haircut I will stick you on the Judas Cradle I have hiding in my closet."

"Of course I'd never do that." But then he grabbed my chin with one hand and forced me to meet his eye and his fingers were cold and hard and for a second I honestly believed that he owned a torture chamber with a Judas Cradle at its very center, just waiting for the day when some random ass douche bag opposed him.

"_Promise_ me," he ordered, staring me dead in the eye. The color of his were darker than usual, not quite forest-like but not so crystallized, maybe pine, or perhaps his pupils were just dilating in the dimness of my car.

"I can't do that."

His lips pursed and I didn't like how thin they got. They looked much better full and pouty, not terse in the fashion they'd practically been in since our conversation escalated from jealousy to flirting to hair. My hand on the back of his neck shuffled through his blonde locks before cupping his tender jawline. Strumming my thumb across the curve of his mouth, I watched in amusement as he released the hold he had on his lips and they bloomed back into shape.

The M of his upper lip was so defined, accentuated by the subtle indention of his philtrum, and the even arches leading to the corners of his mouth aligned perfectly with the start of his bottom. He'd be a good mouth model, I decided, probably more so with lipstick than nude. The thought made me snicker, while on the contrary, there was an immense amount of despair wallowing in his eyes at my inability to provide him with a promise. I'd spoiled him so much that he couldn't stand it when I told him otherwise. Brats like him lived on a planet utopia and the only dirty word that existed there was "No".

"C-Craig," he murmured, and his slender blonde brows scrunched up in time with their astonished rise and I thought it was one of his most darling expressions I've ever seen him wear. "You don't _understand_." His voice was thick with desperation, with a need to show me _how_ to understand. "Your hair is _p-perfect_, dude. It's thick and it's dark and it's straight and it's natural and it never tangles and it's soft and it smells nice and look at how long it's getting! And-" He attempted to shut himself up but he'd already started, so he continued with stricken features, almost like it hurt when he said, "I like t-to grab it, y-you know?"

If that didn't dent my resolve in getting a haircut then I was invincible. But it did, and I wasn't thinking about going to a salon anymore than I was thinking about driving Tweek home. With a hand on the back of his head I pulled him down to me and inclined my own to meet him halfway because I'd been waiting all day to kiss him. That morning he'd given me no hope besides a mere nip that practically haunted me through every class. I'd been doing so good before that point; I was even going to try in my trigonometry class that the blonde was no longer a part of. I had it first and he had it third. I had _Cartman_ and he had Kyle.

We laid there with out lips meshed, an immobile kiss where I vigorously inhaled his scent of coffee and chocolate and his fingers sunk like anchors into the depths of my hair. With an almost immaculate sense of fluidity, our mouths opened and our tongues interlocked in an intoxicating twist. Tweek tasted chilly and sweet, something light like frozen cream or cold feathers. His knees, straddling my hips, pushed against the seat, causing his body to hike higher. A jittery sort of energy was settling into his bones.

I could feel it in the way his grip tightened, breath rattling, tongue delving deeper, and his shoulders shivered, owning the burden of holding himself above me with his elbows poised on either side of me. His back was slightly arched, stomach pressed tightly against my own and I liked the steady pressure. Tweek's body was a like a pillow, warm and snug. My hands slid down his torso where I grabbed his hips cushioned by his sweater.

The pitch of my breath grew harsh as I grew more light-headed. My skin was reacting to both the blonde and the heater, a tandem so remarkably strong that the fluctuation of temperature flogged my brain until all I could imagine was the blonde positioned over top of me, breathless panting constantly interrupting our kisses, legs drawn close to my waist. I curled my fingers around the hem of his sweater and my knuckles were tucked against his skin. He shifted restlessly before running his palm down the length of my throat. Like little sneaks, his fingers slid beneath my jacket to cradle the curve of my shoulder.

He hummed, a hushed coo that occurred as my hand splayed across the small of his back, digits pressed firm against his flesh, so incredibly warm. Maybe he'd say my touch was cold and it was a sound of surprise because he was backing away now, attempting to raise himself up so there would be a distance between us. These little shy moments of his were really starting to piss me off.

"Hey," I murmured, a tone too gruff for the silence accompanied by the engine of my car. Tweek's elbows were leaving the cushions and too soon he'd be an arms length away. He'd make me take my hand away and then he'd tell me to take him home because he was prude and didn't know what to do when I made a move.

His arms stilled, still bent at an acute degree and I caught him in that moment. Rising onto my elbow, I tugged on his bottom lip with the same delicate, teasing nibble he'd given me that morning. My tongue ran between his lips, luring his own into a forgetful enthrallment. He didn't have to be shy. He didn't have to stop me every single time because I wasn't going to go any farther than my limitations. I just wanted _something else_, but not even that. Just something a little _more_.

The blonde's next inhale shook with a tremor against my mouth. Across his back, my fingers skimmed further and the protruding knobs of his spine ran deftly beneath my touch. His sweater rode up the expanse of his back, moving with the stroke of my arm. My finger tips couldn't get enough of his skin and I felt like one hand was devouring the expanse of his back while the other was starving—jealous.

Tweek's face had begun to tilt back against mine, tongue ready and lavishing the inside of my mouth. His arms tangled around my shoulders, coiled like vines, close like leeches. We made a bit of a rustle as I pushed us to sit up; there wasn't much room for maneuvering and balance was a little unstable, but none of that mattered because I had both hands on Tweek's body and his sweater was bunched at his shoulders. Our kiss was borderline harsh, and I'd take the blame for that, but my hands were hungry and my libido was hungry and the blonde was there to satiate me.

This was no massage, what we were doing in my car. My slithering fingers and raking palms weren't meant to soothe. I wanted him to feel inclined to mewl under the force of my hands. I wanted him to feel good because the desperate grip he had on my jacket made me feel good, in control, and this platonic kissing was mutual, so it was only fair. Tweek liked fair.

One of my hands drifted with a mind of its own. It was on his stomach, the bare skin of his stomach that was ridiculously warm and soft, soft as flowers. Tweek's breath hitched, mouth torn from mine, and as my fingers fled up the course of his chest, he shivered in my lap. I opened my eyes, and although my vision was hazy, I saw the awed expression on the blonde's face.

"O-okay," he managed to get out, patting my chest as though I needed to be consoled. It looked as though he was trying to reassure himself, like _he_ needed the friendly patting. "Okay. That uh..." His eyes were like dark pits of never-ending imagination and I smirked breathlessly. He was still thinking about it: the possibilities, another kiss, my hand on his chest.

"T-that's enough." His tone was nearly inaudible. "Definitely enough." He did the patting thing again before slinking out of my lap like his body had no bones. The blonde wiggled around until he was in the front passenger seat, safely away from me.

I took it as a compliment that he was holding himself back, a hard time too if his subtle tremors meant anything. My lips stretched into a grin as I climbed into the front, and I was a tall fuck, so I had to go rubix cube on my car and fit myself through that tiny slip. Tweek kept his face directed toward the window, seat belt on and arms wrapped around himself, even as I headed away from the school and began heading for his house.

"You don't have to take me home," he said, and just like that I made a u-ey, starting in the opposite direction where my house was located. His giggle was laid-back, subdued, telling me that conversation was okay to go for.

"Thanks for warning me this time." I looked at him with a grudge in my eye, meaning that the last time I went to take him home, he told me halfway to his house that he wanted to hang out a little longer. It had been a huge waste of gas.

"Shut up," he snickered. "I wasn't sure and then you said your mom was making pasta salad."

"No." My memory of that day was vaguely different. "You said you wanted to come over after I said I needed a shower."

Cheeks blossoming, Tweek scoffed, "Uh, no. You said that _after_ I wanted to go over to your house."

Pursing my lips, I shook my head and said, "Nope. Pretty sure you grabbed the wheel and made an illegal U-turn the moment 'I need' and 'shower' left my mouth. You even tried to jump in with me. Don't you you remember? That was a bad night. Nearly got myself raped, I did."

Tweek stared at me, a look of annoyance marring his delicately-featured face. "You know what your problem is?" Oh, this was going to be good. "You go off on these long ass tangents about absolutely _nothing_ and you think you're so funny."

"I'm hilarious and you love my sense of humor." I smiled at him, as charming as I could be, as I skimmed the corner that led to my street. "Otherwise you wouldn't want my nuts. People who laugh at your jokes are more likely to have sex with you." And then I remembered Thomas laughed at everything I said and I felt little weird. Not going to lie. He'd held my hand, too. Fuck conspiring with Tweek. Thomas was partnering with Mr. Garrison.

The blonde's blush darkened but he made no further point to disagree with me. The smile got him every time, just like it got girls at Dixxy's to buy an extra dessert, and one day Clyde's mom was going to fall in love with me. Maybe his dad too if I felt like adding to my fill of forbidden ass. It wasn't against the law—I was eighteen and if I wanted to be with a forty-year-old MILF, then that was completely okay—just kind of gross.

And then I looked at the blonde and thought that there was no way he was legal unless he threw his birthday party without inviting me, and if that was the case, then I was very disappointed. "How old are you?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes as though the answer was sitting in his place: two large numbers with a pair of skinny legs instead of Tweek himself.

He grinned bashfully, shying away from the answer. "I'm uh... I'm seventeen."

"Thanks for setting me up with statutory rape, asshole," I grumbled, turning into my driveway. My dad's car was parked there as well, obviously meaning he was home, and that sucked.

"No problem!" He exclaimed, grabbing his backpack from the back where they'd ended up. I wondered what kind of medication was inside it today.

The blonde took off for the front door, but I wasn't letting him go so easily. Whipping my keys out of the ignition, I ignored my backpack and made to follow Tweek's footsteps. He left the door open for me since he was such a sweetheart, but averted to the dark side when I saw one of the dining table chairs in the middle of the hallway in some sorry attempt to stop me from crossing its barrier.

Grinning, I swore to him telepathically that it was on. Dodging the chair, I'd leave it for Ruby or my mom to fix, I made quick work of the distance and exited the entrance hall just in time to see him fleeing up the stairs. Just as I began to shadow him, my steps were stunted as my dad exited the kitchen and got in my way. He was an iron door standing between the blonde and I and his side-step, conveniently blocking my path, was too timed to be random. To test his authority I moved to the left, only to have him mimic the action.

Staring up at the traitor, I implored confirmation from him by asking, "Really?"

He met my eye dead on, just a bit of proof that I was his son. We were both straightforward fuckers. "Your boyfriend pushed a hard bargain but I relented as you can see."

From over his shoulder, Tweek was still standing on the stairs, not having moved any farther than I had. He looked undeniably proud and egotistical with his wide smile and vibrant gaze. I gave him a look that said he wasn't the only one with a Judas Cradle and his haughtiness wavered.

I focused my eyes back on my dad. "Bargain?"

"Yep. Free coffee for a week straight. What is it you've been saying lately? Holla?"

Alright, yeah. I might've been embarrassed for the first time in my life.

"I think," I started, pursing my lips to show him that I didn't appreciate his humor, "that because you just said that, which wasn't cool, dude, you should move out of the way."

My dad laughed, brought up one of his papa bear hands, and slapped it down on top of my head to ruffle my hair like he used to do when I was nine years old and four-ten. Maybe Tweek brought out the kid in me or something because it's been years since I've gotten the chip-off-the-old-block act from my father.

Behind him, Tweek appeared frazzled.

The second my dad stepped aside, he didn't even wait to see if I was going to play mercy and decide to let him go—which was a good idea because I wasn't a merciful type of guy—before he sprinted up the stairs with his little chicken legs and two left feet. He'd fucked with the wrong guy, specifically one with a lunge that was practically equivalent to a long jump runner's Olympic leap. _That was also probably the most egotistical metaphor I've ever used to describe myself_, I thought, snatching the blonde's hood before he could reach my door.

He didn't even manage a cry as he swung around to dislodge my hand. He tripped over his own heels, stumbling backwards, and my clenched fist on his sweater was so tight I didn't even have enough time to release him. My door, which I distinctly remembered shutting that morning, was thrust ajar due to the momentum of Tweek's back propelling against its surface. The wood gave instantly, slamming into the adjacent wall.

Both the blonde and I tumbled into my room, unsteady on our feet until our chests collided and I stopped because he had. Tweek was laughing, hugging me around my middle while he teetered backwards from the push of my body. I grabbed his shoulders to balance the both of us and I was surprised he hadn't fallen flat on his face. It would've been funny had it happened.

"I almost just ate my own floor, you little shit." My growl was a playful rumble and I grabbed his jaw to shake his head around a little bit as a form of punishment. He was still laughing and his hands were clutching at my jacket and I was so close to kissing him, so regrettably close, that I almost failed to notice who was sitting on my bed.

Situated there, staring at the me like I was Ruby and they didn't understand why I was in my brother's room, were my two best friends, both of which my dad never gave me a heads-up on. Token's car hadn't even been parked outside my house, which made me curious as to how they'd gotten over here because Clyde certainly hadn't walked, the lazy fuck.

And I had almost kissed Tweek in front of them.

It wasn't like I was keeping it a secret. If they ever got a clue—which I was sure my little slip-up could be considered—and asked me about it, I'd tell them the truth. Why I wanted to keep that from happening was because it was all a game, an incredibly fun game where I felt like I was sneaky and coy and unsuspecting. This Tweek thing was exciting even though I knew if they ever found out it would be less than anti-climatic. Neither of them would be upset that I hadn't told them. If anything, Clyde would throw a fit because he hadn't been smart enough to catch on.

Still, it was the idea that _they had no idea_, and yet it was taking place all around them. Unless a large mistake was made they'd never be curious, and perhaps that was where the excitement was coming from. Having come so close to kissing Tweek, so close to ruining the fun, I felt uneasy in the most addictive way. I wanted to touch Tweek in the next room over and tell him that he had to be quiet since he'd just recently started to procure light noises whenever we kissed now.

We were scandalous and I liked that, but it wouldn't last very long if I fucked up so soon. Releasing the blonde, I greeted them indifferently, "Hey guys." They didn't have noticed Tweek in my arms if they didn't want to. His body tensed up like a rubber band on the brink of snapping as he shuffled away. His sudden lurch was too suspicious and I wanted to scold him for being so obvious.

"_Hey_," Clyde greeted. It sounded more like he was pondering something peculiar and I could only guess that it was Tweek.

"You should probably take your medication," I told the blonde directly, using whatever illness he had as a cover-up for his sketchy behavior. It was a good fib, fabricated from the truth.

Although he glared at me—he never liked it when I brought up his issues—he excused himself to go downstairs for some coffee and took his backpack with him. That was good, I decided, ignoring his leave as stoic as ever. If he wasn't here I could formulate a diversion that would lead Token and Clyde farther away from the reality of the situation.

Flopping down beside them, my head in Token's lap, I devised an excuse that was both truth and bending of the rules, although whether for the circumstance or not they'd never know. "He gets fidgety like that when he needs to take his pills."

Token was genuine when he asked, "What's he taking them for?"

"Like hell if I know," I scoffed. I considered it an attack on my personal trust that he hadn't told me yet. "He's jittery and paranoid. Do you know any illnesses with symptoms like that?"

"He's a homosexual. There you go. Diagnosis discovered," Clyde chirped. As I snorted with laughter, he continued, "Oh, and he's horny for you. That'll put anyone in the hospital." When I tried to push away his outlandish claim, which wasn't outlandish in the slightest, he rejected by saying, "Don't think I didn't catch how his hands were wandering toward your wiener." If only the brunette knew his hand had been on my ass earlier.

"I really am worried about that," I mused. "One day I'm not going to be paying attention and then the next thing I know: My pants are gone." This was an altered version of a truth so unbelievable anyone would suspect you're lying. As far as these two knew, my clothes weren't going anywhere. As far as I knew, I couldn't been too sure. As for Tweek, he was probably on the verge of rape.

"Fuck that, dude! I'd watch out for your anus," Clyde warned. Token humored that one, always one for a good butthole joke.

"Oh yeah. I'll keep an eye on his fingers," I verified, flipping over onto my back for extra protection.

"Don't get distracted. You'll want to keep an eye out for his penis, too."

"Are you guys making gay jokes?" Tweek asked, entering my room hesitantly. Peering over, I saw how nervous he still was, although generously less shaky.

He wouldn't appreciate being the source of our comedy but I told him anyways. "We're making homosexual Tweek jokes."

"Wow. That's significantly less of an insult: replacing gay with homo. Thanks, Craig." His words were harsh but his tone wasn't rough. I was just getting a hard time from him because I deserved it.

To make it up to him, I patted the spot next to Clyde and me. The brunette appeared betrayed that the offered space was closest to him. "Why don't you come join us? Just not anywhere near my butt."

After going through the pissy gay motions of a pointed stare and an eye roll, the blonde huffed his way over to my bed and sat down, ridiculously uncomfortable. If I had a dog, he'd be the dead bird it dragged it. I hadn't even known that dogs did that until Rex did it to Clyde. Put it right next to his door, too. From his mom I heard that he'd woken up, stepped on it, and nearly peed himself. Literally. He'd had to go to the bathroom as soon as he saw what he'd stepped it.

"You need to loosen up, man," Token suggested. Tweek looked terrified by his advice. "We're all friends here. You know me and Craig and you don't need give Clyde a second thought. It's easier just to ignore him." Very rarely did Token ever throw our best friend under the bus, but it was always hilarious when he did because the brunette would get all pouty and quiet and then it was even easier to ignore him.

"What's even easier than ignoring him is saying he's good for nothing. He's like the ottoman no one wants to put their feet on," I shot, just to add to his ridicule. If he truly missed me as much as he let on to believe, then he would enjoy my insult.

"I'm good for plenty of things," Clyde grumbled, scowling at Token and I. "You're the one with a limp dick."

"You pause the TV and show me screen shots of girls' asses and boobs just to show me what I'm missing out on."

"What else am I supposed to pause it on? Some guy's junk? Homo over here might like that, but we're straight, Craig. I don't care how many times you say you're asexual; one day you're going to get some female ass and you're going to love it." Tweek and I made eye contact, although I wasn't sure if it was because we both knew that wasn't true—Red was all the female ass I'd need for a life time—or if we meant him since I was kind of getting some of his ass.

"I think it's time to lay off of me, dude. Why don't you pick on Tweek from here on out? He hasn't heard any of your bullshit about how phenomenal sex is. He's living the life of a virgin right now," I explained, pushing the burden in his direction. I no longer wanted to deal with it. Not when I had been doing so since I hit puberty and not when there was an easy target right next to me.

Clyde's nose crinkled, but it wasn't like when the blonde did it. There was just a significant different between everything that my best friend did and everything that Tweek did—except their pissy attitudes. "I smell something foul and it's coming from this untouched temple sitting next to me." Untouched was an alright way to describe him, I thought. Not yet had I desecrated his temple, just kind of explored its perimeter.

Tweek's cheeks sprung into liveliness and I was positive he was thinking the same thing. Looking pleadingly at Token, he said, "Please help me."

"I don't know, man," he wagered the pros and cons of saving the blonde or listening to Clyde whine about his betrayal if he went with option one. "Some of the stuff he talks about can be pretty influential. You might get something out of it."

"I already g-get lectured by Thomas about this stuff. Please don't make me listen to Clyde, too."

Quirking a brow, I shuffled around to face the blonde, head still resting on Token's thigh. "What does Thomas say? We're talking about straight sex. I'm pretty sure Thomas is only capable of advertising anal."

"Same thing," Tweek said, referring to the speech, not the hole. "Sex is great. It's the only thing you're ever going to want to do. Feels awesome. Hurry up and get some ass so we can talk about it." He was right; that was exactly what I got from Clyde whenever he went on a rant. His main argument was how he wanted to 'talk about it'. The brunette wanted to share positions and techniques, probably switch off and do each others girlfriends on the side.

"So Thomas has had sex?" I didn't know him very well, and although he was less shy in comparison to Tweek, I couldn't really see him as anything other than a virgin. The farthest I go experience-wise was to say he'd given a few blow jobs. _Given_, not received—that was an important detail.

The blonde nodded his head, and before anyone could ask, gave out one name that explained everything. "Kenny."

"Well, there you go," Clyde remarked, throwing his hands up. "Now that makes perfect sense."

"You sure you're still a virgin, Tweek?" Token asked, joking good-naturedly.

The blonde didn't even have to answer because Clyde and I laughed, providing enough clarity that a word or nod wasn't needed. He glared at the two of us, pulling his knees up against his chest, his arms tying them in place. Although his jeans fit tight, they gave under the bent angle of his limbs.

As I was watching him, he seemed to be relatively comfortable. He didn't really take part in the conversations between Token, Clyde, and I, but he smiled whenever something funny was said and I think he just liked being able to listen. This was a bit of another side of me, probably not as cute as the one Tweek knew. The three of us talked about different stuff compared to what the blonde and I did and everything we said just made us sound like a bunch of assholes. Clyde would be going off on something about some girl and I'd say things like, "Shut up, fatass" or "You're fucking ugly", but that was the equivalent of "Yeah" and "Alright" and "Continue".

When the topic of our conversation hit a vital point—Stoley—I inquired Tweek for a rough estimate on how much male ass he's ever gotten. Clyde sighed and attempted to steer clear of his man crush, but the blonde was a firm believer in being fair and karma, so to get back at the brunette for making fun of him earlier, he answered me with a large amount of simplicity and even seemed delighted to feed us information. Perhaps he was getting back at the half-Asian as well, for his secrets about everything he could do with his mouth had been spoiled by said oriental.

"Kevin's actually on the fence right now, I think. I know you," Tweek said to me, "know about the whole Red situation, but I guess there were a few kisses and a boob grab in there somewhere." Oh really? That redheaded liar. She strictly told me that he'd only _looked_. "He talks about girls sometimes, just like who he thinks are cute and stuff, but sometimes he'll ask Thomas a few things that are a little iffy, you know? Like, you can kind of just tell he's curious."

"Why doesn't he ask you?" Clyde asked, trying to act with an air of nonchalance. He was pulling it off pretty good, almost as though he were absorbing some of my indifference.

Tweek looked at him pointedly, a similar stare that I often received when he thought I was being stupid. "Do I look like a person you'd get advice from?"

Clyde laughed the laugh he should've instead of asking the blonde such a ridiculous question. "That's true. You probably have no experience at all. I feel bad for you, man. Life must suck."

We made eye contact for a second time that night, sharing a devious little secret.


	17. Chapter 17

It's been awhile since I've updated this story, hasn't it, my bitches? ;D

But I reached 200 reviews and this is pretty much the best day of my life. Hahahaha. So, **Mp3r**: You're my second-hundrenth reviewer! You get to control a chapter of Automaton all to yourself. (:

Oh, and I got a new computer! It's a mac. And it's lovely.

* * *

><p>About a week later I was inside Tweak Bros. waiting for Tweek to man up and show me his coffee art. It was Sunday and the coffeehouse was relatively busy. The blonde's parents weren't present, verifying his explanation of 'They're there, I'm here. I'm there, they're here'. He'd placed me, conviently for his own benefit, in the booth farthest away from the register where he told Kenny to rape me if I tried to slip away. He was smart not to trust me because I offered up a kiss or two if Kenny would move up a seat with me, but the druggie was loyal and said that he'd rather have the sex than a kiss. So we stayed put.<p>

Tweek decided to fuck with me too by taking his time with each costumer. He was stretching out their orders until he could go no further, all so he wouldn't have to show me this little talent he had. Obviously he didn't suck at it for Kenny was as truthful as me and he constantly praised Tweek for his skill. While sitting there, waiting it out at a booth in the back with Kenny, Token, and Bebe, I began to understand what the sketchy blonde needed that he definitely didn't have: a pill for self esteem.

It was around the time when his seventh or so customer, a skinny guy with a baseball cap and hair curling under his ears, began to order that he quit ignoring our booth to ask for help instead. Kenny had recieved a text, only to look at it and clap his hands together. He slid his phone toward the center of the table where the rest of us could view the message. It was from Tweek and it said, _Can someone help me? This guy keeps hitting on me._

"Text him back and tell him he should've given us a better deal," I told Kenny. "I don't think he deserves to be rescued. Not after the service he's given us. He hasn't even taken our orders yet, that asshole."

"I second that," Bebe agreed.

Smirking, Kenny rephrased our unanimous vote and declined the blonde's plea. Faster than I thought possible, another text was delivered. This one was read out loud. "Don't let Craig influence you. I seriously need some help." I peered around a few shoulders to glare at Tweek at the register for that one. The guy with the baseball cap turned around when the petite blonde waved at me sweetly.

"Great," I muttered. "Looks like I'm the protective boyfriend." The boys and Bebe laughed, congradulating me on my first relationship, and then I got an idea and I was suddenly really excited. "Should I tuck my shirt in like a tool?" I asked them, sliding out of the booth with one hand already on the hem of my top.

"Yes," Kenny snickered. "It looks even better because you're wearing a sweater."

"I like this sweater," I commented, tucking a four-finger width of the hem into the front of my pants. It was a beige article, one of my fancier pieces of clothing due to the brand, with a simple black anchor stitched to left sleeve.

"I want a picture of this when you're done saving Tweek," Bebe giggled, snuggled up to Token's chest like he was the only cup of coffee she needed. I loved it.

Just before I started heading toward the register, Kenny told me, "Hold up." His phone was in front of his face again and from behind each side, a corner of his mouth was rising. "Tweek said not to send you."

"What?" I barked, leaning across the table to snatch his phone away. "This is blasphemy." My grumble was drowned out by the laughter of the three others and Tweek's text staring back at me, a three worded warning. _Don't send Craig._ He was a little shit and there was no way I was going to let anybody help him now. On Kenny's phone I sent him, _You've just lost any hope of survival_, and slunk back into my seat.

I spied on him from the the booth though, along with my three comrades who were just as curious to see whether Tweek was about to get a stalker or not. Actually, I was pretty sure they were thinking a date. _I_ was going for stalker-in-need-of-legal-services-like-a-restraining-order-or-perhaps-a-death-sentence.

Baseball Cap was still standing at the front counter, leaning conspicuously close. Facing us, Tweek appeared flustered, a cringe in his smile. His work balance was off. Where he ususally held a sort of confidence when constructing a cup of coffee, he no longer held that quality. His knees were probably shaking just as bad as his hands, but if I really looked into his nervous appearence, he might've looked touched, affected by whatever was being said to him.

Bebe was giggling under her breath, clutching Token's shoulder in suspense. Next to them, Kenny had a smirk on his face. Tweek continued to look back at us, smiling sharply every time he looked back to the guy with the hat as though he were sorry for taking his eyes off him. I wondered if his cheeks hurt or if his eyes were tired of being so scrunched up and glittery. A few words of Bebe's reached my ears, something about being awed, and I tried to figure out whether she was talking about the delicate blonde or herself. His cheeks were rosy, so perhaps it was him.

When the guy straightened—taller than I suspected—and turned around, he was holding a mere cup that shouldn't have taken so long to come together. He'd definitely stayed to flirt, and whatever he'd said as a farewell had penetrated Tweek. At the register the blonde couldn't count the money properly and shoved it into the register unorganized. Bebe cooed, following Baseball Cap out the door with her eyes, as was I, as we all were. Before he got to the door, he looked at our table and smiled. There were no teeth to it, but it was nearly as straight as Tweek's.

Returning my attention to the small group, I saw how wide Bebe's grin was. If she had looked at him like that, then he would certainly be encouraged. He'd come back. She grabbed Token's attention to croon about what just happened, causing my friend to quirk his brows, and Kenny to cat call across the room at Tweek who ducked beneath the counter as the attention of the occupants in the coffeehouse was gathered.

"Who knew Tweek would find a nice piece of ass in his own coffee shop?" Kenny snickered, leaning back into his seat when Tweek didn't return from beneath the countertop.

"I don't know, man. Did he really look interested? I thought he looked pretty damn scared," Token wondered, making a cute face at Bebe before twiddling his thumbs. The two had been flirting incessantly in incriments and each one got stronger than the last. Threading her arm through his, the blonde female turned her attention toward Kenny to hear his answer.

"Tweek's interested in anything that's interested in him," was Kenny's simple statement in reply.

"Here comes the lucky fuck," I greeted, loud enough so the frail blonde would hear. He did and he glared at me, shuffling over toward our table like every step he took made the earth shake.

Reaching my side, he mumbled, "Scoot over."

"Nope." I wasn't feeling very generous today.

Huffing, he sat down anyways, although instead of a seat, he landed in my lap, and he stayed there as though I was his chair, which seeing as I was already his slave, a chair seemed pretty accurate as well. I could've peered over his shoulder, but that would've been too much work, so I rested my cheek against his spine instead. His breath was off-kilter I could tell, and he bent over like the weight of my face was too much, burrying his head into his arms ontop of the table.

No one would notice, I told myself, so I maneuvered my hands beneath the table and grabbed his knees with the little tremors still going through them. I had a theraputic touch when it came to him, and his barely perceptible trembling ceded until there were no longer any ripples passing through him. My palms wondered up his legs to hug his thighs where they'd stay so Kenny wouldn't notice the movement of my arms.

I wondered what Token was thinking. He'd only just seen Tweek and I together a week earlier. Anything before that was just quick meetings where my relationship with the blonde hadn't shown through. Token hadn't seen Tweek boss me around, or sit on me, or call me names, or tell me to do something for him and I'd do it. My friend wouldn't comment on us but he'd be thinking about it. I didn't let others push me around on a regular basis. Red was the only one who's gotten close to that level, but she paid me to do things for her.

For a moment Tweek just sat there, hiding like a child believed they did when they covered there face and that was it: they were invisible. Bebe reached out a hand and ruffled his locks, a gesture that brought him out of his stupor. He raised his head, but that was like a cue for the barrage of questions. The two curious blondes sitting across from him assalted him with a wave of them.

"Oh, wow." Tweek sounded genuinly surprised. "I r-really don't want to talk about this." He chuckled dryly before covering his eyes again. "You guys are so embarrassing." Because he was getting questions about how large Baseball Cap's penis was, whether or not his nipples were hard, how big his hands were, did he have an estimate at least in regards toward penis size?

"What's his name?" I asked, interrupting the others with a reasonable inquiry.

"I'm so proud of you, Craig," Token congradulated. "You're a real man." I looked over Tweek's shoulder and winked at my best friend for that one before placing it against the blonde's back again.

"Oh—uh," Tweek stuttered, "It's uhm. It's H-Harper."

"He gave you a name," Kenny mused. "I hope you know why he told you that." The innuedo didn't go unnoticed. Tweek groaned and began to rub his temples.

"So how long has he been coming in here?" Bebe asked, and I thought I knew the answer. I would've said once, no doubt about it.

Tweek said differently, and I was honestly kind of shocked. "Like, seven times," he said, adding quickly thereafter, "but guys, please don't say anything. I don't want to hear this."

Bebe spoke anyways, knowing that the boy in my lap was only being stubborn. "I knew it. He looked way too friendly to have only shown up once. Does he come in on the same day? Like once every week?"

"I-I'm not sure." Tweek shifted uncomfortably, making it so for the both of us. I snickered into his back to let him know he was stupid and he stopped moving just as suddenly. "I've only really b-been here on and off r-recently," _I'll take the blame for that_, "so I—uh. I don't know if it's a regular thing or not, y-you know?"

"That'd be really sweet if it was," the blonde girl mused. "He was pretty cute, wasn't he Token?" For that, I looked over Tweek's shoulder again to stare at my best friend forlornly. Soon he'd be whipped, because we all knew he was going to agree with her, and then Bebe saw the look I was giving him and readdressed her question. "Isn't he, _Craig_?"

"Low blow, Bebe." Grilling on your boyfriend's best friend like that. Awful stuff right there. "He was just adorable." I reminesced his basecall cap that was probably for some lame ass team and I was so apathetic that I thought I'd reached a whole new level of sarcasm.

"Your opinion doesn't matter," Kenny told me. "Tweek's does." Which meant he wanted to know the delicate blonde's thoughts on how attractive this Harper guy was.

Laughing nervously, Tweek said, "Okay. Wow. This seriously isn't cool, guys."

"It's better if you don't beat around the bush, dude," Token suggested, having been nicked in the ribs by Bebe's elbow. Oh, I knew that move. Tweek loved to do it to me when he wanted to nag me into something that I wasn't very keen on doing.

"Alright. Okay. Fine." The boy being appointed threw his hands up but it sounded like there was a bit of a smile in his voice. "He's kind of cute. It's whatever. He's just some guy. Stop making a big deal out of it. He doesn't have my number. I don't know how old he is. I don't know where he lives. He comes in sometimes and talks to me and that's it." As an afterthought he added, "I don't know anything about his dick, either."

"You're full of shit," I told him and everyone else. "Tweek loves talking about people who like him because there are only like, three in existance. One of them is Harper and one of them is Thomas." Kenny asked who the third one was to which I replied, "I don't know. Maybe his mom or something. My mom. Possibly my dad if I really want to go out on a limb."

Everyone laughed even though they had no idea that my dad was slightly fond of Tweek. Said boy turned around to narrow his eyes at me. It was the first time I'd seen his face since he'd sat down, since he'd started talking about Baseball Cap. I could see the lively undertone in his cheeks but I didn't think I could take the blame this time.

"You're an asshole," he spat, pinching my cheeks between his fingers like I was some chubby kid and he was my grandma Red with the spit on his thumb at the ready. "I hate you so much." _That's why you're going to kiss me later, isn't it?_ I wanted to say to him, and maybe I relayed the teasing remark in my eyes, because his cheeks grew a notch brighter and he glanced away from me shyly, toward my sleeve. "I like you're sweater." His tone was lighter now. Kenny would surely notice but maybe it was useless skirting around this secret with him. He'd find out soon enough, confide in his own clues, deviate on his own time, lure out the truth in places we wouldn't think he was taking it from. Nothing stayed hidden from him, but nothing ever left him either. Not unless it needed to.

"I like you're face." Quirking my brows I added, "Is that what Harper says to you?"

Bebe pirked up.

"Nope. He asks me how my day is." He said it in a way that was meant to spite me. He turned back around, but I didn't think it was to speak to the rest of the group. I think he just didn't want me to see his face when he said, "Besides. I know that Harper isn't going to happen."

"Why so sure?" Kenny asked, calculating something. Tweek would've been better off talking with his back turned.

"I don't know." He shrugged once, a light, flippant fall of his shoulders. "I kind of—"

"Oh no," Bebe cooed with an undertone of soft laughter. "Harper's going to be so heartbroken. You like someone else."

Tweek didn't correct her wrong. "It's not—" His laugh was embarrassed. "I don't have a _crush_ or anything. I'm just kind of i-interested in someone else." It was spoken like a question, like he was trying to play a guessing game.

Token made the humorous obversation, "Sounds like Craig's got a lot competition." Little did he know that I _was_ the competition.

"Yeah," I agreed. "One for each fist."

"Oh no. Craig never had a chance." Tweek's smile was huge, all straight, wide teeth and nothing more when he looked back at me. He was lucky his face was perfect, otherwise I would've smashed it into the table and made him eat shit.

"Gay boys are so hard to please," I sighed, specifically to him.

"That's because I'm a guy so I know what other guys are thinking," he explained sweetly, slapping my cheeks repeatedly between the palms of his hands as though the pinching hadn't been enough. The things I let him do to me. Dear god.

"But Craig's not like other guys. His penis doesn't work," Kenny put in. I wondered how much he'd figured out already.

"Don't help his case," Tweek shot. "I'm punishing him right now. Later, I'm going to make him drink coffee. And tonight, I'm going to make him do my homework."

Leaning toward Bebe, Token begged, "Please don't ever make me do your homework."

It wasn't until elevan o'clock that night when Tweek was closing the shop that I finally saw his coffee art which he told me was actually termed 'latte art'. I guess the drink it was used in was a latte, but they were both coffee so I didn't see the difference; one just sounded fancier than the other. But to Tweek there was a difference because he was skilled and knew things that I didn't, things that meant a lot to him, so I didn't push the subject on its stupid name too hard.

Nobody else was in the shop, the closed sign was up, the majority of the shop was plunged in a murky darkness, and Tweek and I were standing by his favorite machines as though we were huddling by a fire. I could practically feel him breathing he was so near and his arm brushed my chest at even the most miniscule movements. He'd just made some dark, dank slip of brew.

"You just go like this," he instructed, holding a cup with the brew—an expresso shot he'd said—at an angle while pouring a white liquid, which he'd told me was steamed milk, into the same cup. The milk disappeared as the coffee began to rise and then abruptly reappeared beneath the surface. Tweek began to delliberately shake his other hand that held the milk, and I didn't understand why until a pattern began to appear when the expresso split and an almost tye-dye effect overtook the cup of coffee. When he drew his hand from the top white-most part of the cup to the bottom, dragging a line down the center of the image, I realized it was a leaf.

He called it a Rosetta. "That's fucking awesome." Who the hell had thought of making a leaf out of expresso and milk? Why was I so fucking dumb that I couldn't think of something as crazy as that? Honestly. "Kenny said you can do other things." I bet he could do a penis pretty good, but I kept the thought to myself because Tweek was enjoying himself.

"I can!" When he smiled up at me, his eyes were radiant even under the dim glow permeating from the single light a few ceiling panels down. I thought I could see the richness of the expresso reflected in his inspired gaze. This was what he liked to do. "I'll make you a swan. That's one I just learned. They're so cute." So caught up in his excitement, he fumbled with his cup with the Rosetta in it before looking back up at me searchingly. "Y-you don't mind a swan, do you?"

My chuckle was charming, even to my own ears, and I had to wonder if I'd subconsciously done that for him, to calm him down. "I don't give a shit, dude. You make me whatever you want." He bit his lip and nodded his head quickly before collecting another expresso shot and more milk.

This one started out different. He circled his hand around the perimeter of the cup as he poured the milk, and around the second circle, he turned the flow of liquid toward the middle. It was near the rim of the cup—a tea cup almost—that a more distinct tye-dye effect took place. He traced a thick line of milk back down toward where he started the ripple, not down the middle this time, and then curved it up like a goose's neck, where a fat dollap of white was made for the head and it tapered off into a beak. The rippled tye-dye was the wing and body—a very interesting outcome.

With a toothpick, the blonde collected a drop of expresso onto its tip and drew a thin, fragile line for the eye of the swan. I was seriously a little bit stunned by his technique. I'd never seen anything like it, although he'd assured me it was all over youtube where he'd learned it, and I thought of it as one of his quirks like his tongue tricks and double jointed arms. He was just trying to be humble, acting like nothing he did was special, when I sure nobody else in South Park could do what he did, except maybe his mom or dad.

"So are you going to drink it?" Tweek asked, looking up at me earnestly. He was happy and wasn't expecting me to say no to him, but the more I looked at the swan and thought of what it was made of, the more I didn't want it in my stomach. A shot of expresso sounded _worse_ than coffee. Seeing what must've been a terrifed expression cross my face, the blonde deadpanned. "You're chickening out _now_?"

"Yeah. Kind of." I laughed, raising my lip in distate toward the swan. I didn't care how pretty it was. It wasn't going in my mouth.

"Come on, dude!" Grabbing my hand, the blonde thrust the cup into it, disturbing the bird's image. He picked up the Rosetta and held it up. "I'll drink if you drink."

"If you're a bird, I'm a bird." He didn't find my Ryan Gosling quote very funny. "Unless theres a shot of tequila in this, it's not going down." I sniffed it anyways and deemed it unworthy of my taste-buds. "Nope. Can't do it, Coffee Bean."

"Yes, you can." He pouted subtely, a flirtatious push of his lips that coupled with the slant of his brow. His free hand snuck under the hem of my sweater where his fingers met my flesh. Against my hip, his palm rested, soft and small and warm. _Oh_, was my first thought, because I really hadn't been expecting that.

My smirk was unsatiable. This was a big move for Tweek, I knew. He loved to be prude, and all of this so I'd drink a cup of coffee with a swan in it? "I don't know, man. It smells fucking awful." His pout intensified, causing me to chuckle. "It's very pretty, though. I will give you that because I don't think there's anything you can do for this smell."

His mood dampened, but it wasn't because I'd declined. "It's not pretty," he scoffed. "It's stupid. I'm not very good at it." And he could've been telling the truth, but I knew he was self conscious, and this looked like a pretty damn good swam in my hand, so I wasn't quick to believe him.

"You know I'd tell you if this looked like shit in a cup, right?" I asked, as though double-checking. "I'm not going to lie to you to make you feel better. This is really cool what you do, man." His fingers curled around my waist and the slender digits were warm from having held the steamed milk. My body seemed too big for his hands compared to how small he was next to me. It was weird, but I kind of liked it.

"So you're not going to drink it?" He asked, ignoring me completely. I noticed that he liked to do that when he didn't want to talk about something. He'd ignore me and change the subject. One day, he was going to be furious because soon I wasn't just going to leave this stuff alone.

"Are you going to give me that massage soon?" I countered.

As he matched my stare, his fingers twitched into a slight clench. "Whenever you want," was his answer—regrettably so, in my case—which led me to plug my nose and throw my head back, a cup with a swan in it agianst my lips. Even with my sense of smell cancelled out, it felt vile and sour going down. This must've been what pain medication did. It numbed you but your body still _knew_.

In this case, I couldn't smell or taste but my body was still _aware_. My insides felt like they were curdling. Like my stomach acid was an egg mixture, untempered, and had just been introduced to the hot latte. And the coffee kept coming. No matter how much I chugged, that swan just wouldn't fucking disappear. Tweek's laughter was ringing in my ears along with the exclamation of, "You're such a pussy!"

I guessed plugging my nose was considered cheating.

Just as I dropped the cup, the blonde had his own right there waiting. "One more!" He exclaimed, replacing one cup with the other. I didn't even think anything of it; I just took the latte and downed it. "And I want to see your mustache when you're done."

"That's rough," I grumbled, thrusting the cup away from my mouth. "Kicking a man when he's down like that." But Tweek was too busy laughing to care for what I was saying. "What?"

"You're voice!" He cried, hand slipping around my back, arm lost beneath my sweater. "It sounds the same when your nose is plugged!"

I let go of my face and both of my arms sunk to my sides. The cup clunked ontop of the counter. As I stared at him with a straight face, his laughter turned into a howl. I must've looked pretty dumb with the mustache.

"Come here," he sniggered, grabbing either side of my face. I bet he just used that as an excuse to get his arm out of my shirt.

Pulling me down, he was smiling as he stuck his tongue out and licked the foam lining the top of my lip. "You better get all of it," I mumbled under my breath, attempting not to move my mouth so as not to get the blonde's tongue up my nose. His laughter was rustling the steady tip of his tongue. There was a second where he got right beneath my nose where I whispered, "Oh God" and his tongue really did almost go up my nostril I swear.

Leaning back, Tweek inspected my mouth and bit his lip to keep from giggling. I asked him if we were good and he nodded his head. "Yeah, I got all of it. I ate your mustache for you." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand anyways because now I kind of had a spit mustache and I didn't want it to gleam in the moonlight.

"That's love right there," I told him, and winked when his cheeks turned pink. There was an opportune moment right there, so I randomly popped the question. "Interested huh?"

Tweek's smile turned bittersweet. "Yeah." Hastily he added, "Don't get all cocky on me, though. Interested doesn't mean I want your dick in my face."

Laughing I asked, "So what does interested entail?"

For a moment he pondered my question, fingering the hem of my sweater before eventually saying, "If we stop kissing, I'll be disappointed. How about that?"

His vague answer didn't surprise me. "It's time to get out of here," I told him, grinning to let him know he hadn't fooled me.

"Just let me clean these first," he started, reaching out to grab the two cups.

Before he could grab them, I caught his wrist. "Home first. Clean later."

"Craig." The blonde spoke my name so plainly like I was stupid. "I need to clean these."

"No, you don't." Smirking, I brought his hand away and around until it touched his back. I let his wrist go and replaced his arm with mine when he resituated his limb to his front. My other arm curled around his opposite side and I took a step forward to walk him out from behind the register.

"Craig," he repeated, half whining as he took a step backwards when I started walking into him. "You don't leave dirty dishes in Dixxy's do you? If you do I don't think we can be friends anymore."

My smirk turned crooked at his smart ass threat. "The dishes aren't my job. Flirting with girls is. Like how your job is flirting with Harper." He stopped backing away when I said that and I didn't demand to go further because I knew he wouldn't budge unless I threw him over my shoulder. I was more than capable of doing that but I was tired and had school tomorrow and tigonometry was my first hour so I had to conserve energy.

"I do not flirt with Harper. I asked for help to get him away and nobody came." He was staring up at me like it was my fault, as though he'd been there and heard me say, "He doesn't deserve to be rescued". The walls probably had ears and told him stuff like that. I wouldn't doubt it if Tweek were part coffeehouse since he was already a tree elf.

"You didn't really look like you actually wanted that," I informed, raising my brows when his cheeks dappled pink. "Bebe said you looked like you were in awe."

"The things he says are nice, that's all." When I made a face as though he'd just proven my point, he explained. "I mean, _Thomas _gets that kind of attention from people. I don't ever hear it, s-so it's nice of him to... I don't know. He tried." His voice went all soft and whimsy, reminescing whatever Baseball Cap had said to make him so nervous.

"What does he say?" I asked, cupping his elbows to bring his body closer. He'd been drifting away like a bob out at sea.

He smiled bashfully, turning his head when he stepped too close and our chests brushed. The side of his face rested just beneath my collar bone. "That I look nice today. Just stuff. It's all really stupid." He scoffed under his breath like he realized he'd argued the wrong point. "I didn't want to hear it. That's why I asked for help."

"Why wouldn't you want hear stuff like that? You just said nobody ever—"

"Because nobody ever does. So why would someone start now?" He'd gone sour on me. "My parents say I look fine and Thomas will say something every now and then or Kyle or whoever. I get it. But there's a difference. People like Harper are the difference and I don't—" his hands knotted against my sweater "—I don't get stuff like that."

"And even though someone finally came along, someone who was going to start saying this stuff to you, you're not going to let it happen because you're interested in someone else? I can garantee this other guy doesn't compliment you like Harper does," I told him.

Sighing, the blonde shook his head. "I'm comfortable with that, though. So it's okay."

This kid was so hard on himself. I looked up at the cieling, not sure what the hell I was supposed to do. Token would harness this conversation faster than Clyde could get a girl. _Clyde_ would do better in my position than I was. By the end of this, I'll probably have made Tweek feel like an ugly fuck and get locked up in the coffeehouse. If I didn't contact my inner smooth black man, I was going to be doomed.

"That's not what you want to be comfortable with. Not for the rest of your life, Tweek." Perplexed, he turned his head up to stare at me. That was the first time I've ever said his name seriously. It was weird for me too so I understood. "People are going to come around, but it's hard right now because youre young and limited, but they will. They're going to say things to you, and all you're going to be able to do is be paranoid and scared and confused. You don't want that to happen when it does."

"What are you trying to say?" He asked, already paranoid and scared and confused and I hadn't even reached my main point yet. I smirked down at him to see that he was absorbed in everything that I was saying. I could tell him he was ugly and smelt bad and he would believe it for the rest of his life. There was a problem with someone when you knew they'd believe something as ludicris as that.

"I want you to ask me what I think of you today."

Immediatly he shook his head. "No. No fucking way I'm doing that." His hands tightened, causing my sweater to rub against my back.

"Why not?" I teased.

"Because I know you're going to tell me the truth and I don't want to hear the truth from you. You're brutal, Craig. And you're being dead serious. I'm scared as hell right now." He ground his teeth together like he knew the scary part of the movie was coming up next and didn't want to bite his tongue in half when he jumped.

My smile was viscious. "If you don't ask me then I'm going to play a Harper and tell you myself."

"Please don't do that. Please, _please_ don't tell me what you think." He was begging me because he thought he wouldn't like what he was going to hear. He was scared I was going to tell him he looked wierd or odd or funny. He thought his parents and Thomas and Kyle or whoever were liars. He didn't want to be proven right.

"I wouldn't kiss you if you were ugly, dude." His eyes widened, spiraling green in the dim light. Fingers lost, he grappled for the hold he already had on me.

"W-What?" The blonde's laughter induced scoff was breathless, skeptical. Just as suddenly, his resolve steeled and his lips thinned. He looked up at me with a hardened gaze. "Tell me what I look like, what you think of me," his eyes flickered away and back, "to you."

And he would get the honest truth from me. "I don't know what to think of you." His courage wavered, but I wasn't done telling him what I thought. "Michealangelo and Leonardo Da Vinci and I'm sure a bunch of other artists, I learned that they'd sit in town and take a bunch of different features from a bunch of different people and make a new person out of them. I feel like that's what happened with you. I don't think any of you matches. Like you're a giant collection of different pieces and none of your features really match up.

"Your eyes are big and your lips are pale and your smile is too straight. Your hands are small. You have freckles, even though I can barely see them. I feel like you shouldn't be any of that but you are and it's okay. That's how your were put together and it's unique. You're unique. I guess you look kind of strange, but that's alright. It suits you and you make people like that kind of thing, I think. Like how I'm not very big on pissy attitudes, but you've got one and you make it work, so it's fine if it's on you."

I'm not sure why I got so close to him or why I was speaking against his mouth. I didn't know when he'd wrapped his arms around my shoulders or when his breath had picked up. Yet we were standing there, and I was kissing him, and I was sure I tasted like coffee and I was positive that Tweek loved that. "I have no idea what other people think, but you're not ugly and you have nothing to worry about," I told him hushedly, cradling the back of his head.

On his tip-toes, he wobbled. I held him closer, breathing in the warmth between our mouths. "I look strange?" He clarified, his question just a wisp of air. "And that looks good to you?" I had to remind myself that he was 'intersted' in me and probably wanted to hear something like pretty or hot. My brain didn't associate those words with people, though.

A kiss wouldn't be enough, even if it was for me. Tweek was in a much different position than I was and I had to treat him like so. "Strange wasn't the word I was trying to enunciate." He'd chosen that one because it sounded negative compared to the other adjective I'd used. "You look unique and I like that."

"Okay." The blonde nodded his head. "Unique is... I'm unique. Okay. T-that's fine." His shoulders slumped and he lost his height, falling back onto his heels. I thought I'd done something to upset him, said the wrong thing, but he was snickering softly beneath his breath. I waited for him to explain the reason for his relief, toying with a string on the end of his coat until he admitted, "I was expecting a lot worse from you."

My grin picked up again. "Can we get out of here now? That little self esteem detour really took a lot out of me."

Tweek glanced up at me, a humored curl to his lips. "Y-yeah." He looked like he wanted to say more, talk more, but he shook his head instead. "We can go. Just let me grab those cups and I'll clean them at my house. But uh—" The blonde waited until I was paying attention to him to continue. "What do you think about hanging out with me and Thomas sometime?"


	18. Chapter 18

You all are just too goddamn undeniable.

Loo- Updated!

**Tweek's point of view.**

* * *

><p>"So," Craig consulted, establishing our first conversation in over fifteen minutes. We were sitting in his car with the heater on full blast so that our hair was whipped from our faces. Outside his house, of course. It'd taken us the majority of the morning to get ourselves out of bed and even longer to finally rummage our way through the snow and into his car. It wasn't like we'd come with a plan, though. That was why we've been sitting here, completely idle, for the past quarter of an hour.<p>

"So," I repeated, just as deliberating. I'd taken to flopping over some minutes ago and was currently nestled against the niorette's side, my booted feet kicked up on the dashboard, his arm draped across my chest. The weight of it felt secure and I relied more on that limb of his than I did a seatbelt. He was wearing a leather jacket today and I liked the way the fabric felt between my fingers.

"So, what are we doing today? Because I kind of want to hang out before I have to go to work." Turning my head toward his forearm where the velvety sleeve of his jacket was cool against my skin, I smiled. _Craig wants to hang out with me before he goes to work. _The thought was practically like a sigh inside my head.

Teasingly I informed him, "We hung out all day yesterday, dude." But I wanted to hang out with him before he left for work all the same because when he had to go I decided that I'd put in my own hours at the coffeehouse. I'd then have to go home and sleep in my own bed where I just didn't feel the same. Craig's room, his house, his bed—they all had _life_. I lived in one giant, complex office that was too organized to be capable of vitality.

At Craig's, Stripe made it easier for me to sleep; I could focus on his scampering instead of my bothersome thoughts. Craig's parents were like extra locks on the doors and windows, an extra blanket of security, whereas mine were too aloof to make me feel protected in case of a buglary. Even his sister helped with the comfort I felt when I was at his house. She added that sort of familyesque sense, one that was lacking in my own house. The only thing I liked about where I lived was the homely scent it gave off.

The niorette _humph_ed stubbornly. Craning my head back to glance at him upside down, I saw the shapely pout on his lips that he always seemed to get when I contradicted his thoughts. My smile was insatiable whenever he played the cute card on me. Even now I couldn't refrain from reaching back to pat his puffy pale cheek consolidatingly.

"It's alright," I cooed sarcastically. "I don't mind if you're clingy." Turning his head to glare down at me, my fingers grazed the line of his jaw. _Good god._ He hadn't shaved. There was the scruff on his cheek that I'd lied and said I liked. In truth, it actually turned me on. Really bad. "Kiss?" I suggested.

"Yeah, well I'm not the one throwing kisses out the who-haa." Slanting toward me anyways, he dropped a quite boisterious lip-smack onto my mouth. His breath smelt like mint and cigarettes, his clothes like musk and vanilla, and I was surrounded by his aroma in the close confines of his car and thought that we didn't have to do anything today. At his proximity, my fingers scrabbled to feel more of his scruff. I leaned up into our backwards kind of kiss to lure him back down.

He hummed against my lips and I felt the vibrating alto in my fingertips. When he pulled away, I left a lingering peck against his chin where his invisible cleft was located. Our eyes connected in the brief space between us. Although his face was shadowed, his pupils slightly dilated, their crystaline blue color was remarkably vivid. They struck a cord in me somewhere, one that controlled the entirety of my adoration. Small flecks of a hue almost white split from the central most area of his irises, causing their color overall to be striking. His eyes alone were enough to captivate.

My fingers were subconsciously stroking his scruff and jawline to which he smirked, the tips of his teeth visible between his parted lips. I couldn't draw my gaze away from his mouth. He had such soft lips compared to the strict line of his nose and I wholly believed that the contrast was unbearably appealing. For a boy, he sure knew how to flaunt his mouth, god damn it.

Thinking back to a previous moment—

* * *

><p>I'm unique. <em>That's what I told myself as I stared at my reflection in the seclusion of Craig's bathroom. Since the night he told me that, I'd been repeating it like a mantra in my head every time I passed by a surface that mirrored me. I never thought I was ugly, more or less I thought of myself as nothing. When I looked at my reflection I never imagined a word to describe my appearence, scared that if I ever did it would be negative. Unique was nice, though. I liked being able to look at myself and think of a word as unique as unique.<em>

_My smile caught me by surprise. It was a quick, uplifting stroke of my lips that I quickly put to rest. If someone walked in and saw me smiling at myself in the mirror—Sweet Jesus, I'd be mortified. Just then the doornob turned—my brain was a crystal ball sometimes—and Craig stepped in, feining shock when he saw me. His emotion was clearly a get-up. It failed to touch his eyes which I noticed to be a guinine response from Craig when that happened._

_"I was hoping to walk in on you taking a piss. I had it timed perfectly and everything. I'm thoroughly disappointed," he grumbled, leaning back against the doorframe. Today he was wearing a v neck. The fabric was thin, an inspid color of blue that was almost so stark it was white. It was soft, and I knew that because I'd hugged him earlier. It'd slid like water past my skin._

_"Are you aware that you just walked into a penis joke?" I asked, wondering if I could hound him as much as he did me. It was like everything I said or every movement I made was some secret go at his crotch. Part of me wanted to know where he was getting these accusations from because if I honestly wanted to touch his penis I wouldn't be doing it slyly. Then again, I knew he was just giving me a hard time because I was easy to tease._

_"I am very aware." He quirked his brows, an action that always got me to blush. There was just something about his serious demeanor that offset the raise of his brow, and instead of making me laugh, it made me want to kiss him._

_At times like this, the niorette was so bland that I didn't even want to joke with him. He wasn't a very good brunt to any joke, especially when he was in a cocky mood and felt like being transparent. "I'd say it, but you'd just blow it off." When he nodded his head in agreement, my joke became nonexistant as though it had never formulated to begin with. "Asshole."_

_"Asshole?" He repeated, ego absorbing the derogatory name. "Who was the one ogling at their reflection just now?"_

_"I wasn't ogling," I told him, stepping closer. His profile in the mirror was sharp. The point of his nose and the fulness of his lips, although they contrasted, were definitive features that gathered attention just as they had all of mine. "I was looking for my uniqueness. I was trying to see what you do."_

_"Did you?" His inquiry was filled with little interest in what he was asking. Rather, he was concentrating more on what little space there was between us. I could tell because his eyes were watching me, that genuine expression of his that followed every one of my steps and brought me closer. He called himself asexual, but he was ridiculously good at checking me out. It made me anxious having his concentration on me as firmly as it was. All of my nerves were screaming at me, or maybe it was actually him they were trying to grab the attention of._

_My smile was leaning toward humble, a habit I couldn't help around him. "Not quite." His arm slid around my waist, and as I raised my arms to reach for his neck, I shyly watched the mirror. It was weird and strangely alluring to see me and then Craig, so clearly a man, with his arms draped snug around my body. My own around his shoulders intruiged me further, like I was having some kind of out-of-body experience and the Tweek I was was not me. I was outside of me, watching me, but I liked what I was doing, what Craig was doing._

_A few of his fingers curled around my belt loops, hauling me closer still. I knew I was standing on my toes, and yet he was taller than me. Our chests rubbed suggestively and I inclined my head to kiss him, eyes glued to the mirror. His mouth descended ontop of mine where I watched them touch. My pulse jogged at the image I had at my disposal, of someone—_another guy—_kissing me, and I could feel the secure pressure of his lips as well as his hands as my eyes slipped shut._

_Something had happened to our kisses as of late. They were slow and languid and whenever our tongues touched, rolling with a tender, steady lick, my stomach tightened at the extent of the lazy pace. They made me want to lay down and kiss him on my bed, to get lost in such a way that an exit was unfindable. I liked how fast my heart beat compared to the drawl of our mouths. Even our hands seemed to move at the same leisurely tempo. My fingers drowsily slid into Craig's dark hair, tangling around the back of his head like the tide, drifting and rising in repetition._

_His hair was too thick, too soft not to touch. I couldn't keep from burrowing my hands palm-deep into his tresses. And then his mouth—that silky, fucking undeniable piece of work—opened, and a gush of seductively warm, moist air pilfered against my lips in a low-throated, gravel-twinged moan that practically slashed my breath to shreads. _O-oh no, _was all I could think because my pulse was too busy throbbing in my veins and my ears were desperately trying to pick up the remains of Craig's moan and I wasn't sure how it happened, why he did it, but I wanted him to make that noise again. I had never wanted anything so badly._

_I had his hair in one fist, his shirt in the other, and his tongue in my mouth. My blood felt too hot underneath my skin. It was raging for Craig's voice. That's all I could concentrate on. A new mantra was clouding my thoughts:_ Just one more time. _I didn't know if I was drawing heat from his body or if my abundance of it was growing, but it was everywhere. _Just one more time. _His hands were tight agianst my lower back, hovering above the hem of my jeans. He wasn't making that noise again, and it was like I couldn't have that so I wanted something else, and so suddenly my next thought was: _Just grab my fucking ass. _If he'd just do something, anything to alleviate my scattered thoughts that wouldn't quiet down._

_As though doing so would cause his hands to drop, I attempted to climb higher upon my toes. It wasn't my intention, but his mouth succeeded in pressing closer. His arms had only risen with my body, though. Inside I was aggrivated. He knew when I wanted him to kiss me. He could tell when I was upset. He knew when to stop. But he couldn't fucking grab my ass when even my goddamn _butt _wanted it. A whimper was building at the back of my throat as my clenched fists tightened so I wouldn't rip them away and _force _his hand on me._

_My embarrassment escalated like never before when I realized I was practically dancing on my feet. Craig pulled away, chuckling in a husky tone that settled at the base of my spine. "What are you doing, dude?" He was moving too far, and I quickly corrected that, thrusting him back toward me by his hair and shirt. I didn't want to stop breathing him in. "Do you have a boner or something?"_

_"No!" I cried, cheeks burning up hotter than my body. "I-" Oh god, what was I supposed to say? I couldn't just blurt out "Touch my butt". This was so embarrassing. Craig was watching me, snickering and kissing me in alternating intervals depending on whether or not I shied away._

_How was I supposed to tell him to grope my ass? "I want-" My mouth sprang shut. I'd almost said it. _I almost just told him to touch me outright. Oh fuck. Oh no, oh no. Sweet Jesus. Craig, please read my mind. Please read my mind. I can't say it out loud. Please don't make me say it. _But he wasn't looking me in the eye. He was staring at my mouth, licking his lips in a fashion that made me want to kiss him. I wanted to hear him moan. I wanted him to grab my ass. I wanted to kiss him so— "Fuck, I want you to gr-" Shaking my head, the hand in his hair removed itself to cover my mouth instead._

_Pressed so close to his body, I could do nothing more than place my forehead against his collar and tell myself how prude and insecure and stupid I was. If only I hadn't been a baby that day before school when we were in his room and he'd picked me up. Even then I'd come so close to letting his hand drop._ God, I was so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

_My fingers clamped tightly around my mouth and my eyes widened in a pure state of surprise._

_Craig's hands, braced against my back, shifted in unison until all I could think was, _Both is too much. Both is too much. _It was only one that broke away, though, and traced the small of my back. As his palm rounded the curve of my ass, my breath wavered dangerously. "Is this what you wanted?" The niorette's voice was a rasp against the shell of my ear, crippling my next breath twice as bad. I was aware, yet in no control, that when I nodded my head, my back inadvertently arched for emphasis._

_A smirk fluttered past his features, and with a distinct nuzzle, the niorette lured me back to his mouth. Maybe my ass was just perfect for his hand, or his hand was perfect for my ass, but he groped me and I couldn't understand why I'd pushed him away for so long. _Oh dear god, _I wanted to say, but I was too preoccupied with lavishing his mouth with my tongue. Hand back in his hair, I gripped at his locks and pushed against his grip on my backside. He grasped me harder, pulling me roughly, causing our bodies to clash, our teeth to clank._

_His mouth slipped down my jaw, peppering the bone with chaste kisses that sizzled the farther he got from my lips. Without a clear thought, I turned my head away and his tongue licked down the column of my throat. His hair tickled my face, smelling strongly of vanilla. He nuzzled his nose against the collar of my flannel, pushing it aside to kiss at the warmed flesh beneath my shirt. It was hard to breathe as he picked apart the buttons of my top with his free hand, teeth nipping at my newly exposed skin, one inch after the other. Craig pushed the fabric away and his mouth attached to my shoulder. At the same time his hand curved beneath my ass, grabbing my butt from a new angle._

_I burried my face in his hair, registering nothing besides his mouth sucking vigorously against my skin, his teeth scraping with every suction, and my leg, invigorated by his groping hand, aching to rise. I'd never been touched like this anywhere on my body and knowing that Craig was the one doing it first turned me on in a completely blatantly sexual way that I couldn't imagine the word 'platonic' existing in this moment. There was nothing platonic about Craig's mouth on me, his hands on me. There was nothing platonic about the way I was clinging to him, panting against his ear as he did this to me._

_Sluggishly, Craig lifted his head. My eyes were open but I couldn't see anything more than my own imagination as our mouths brushed ocassionally, fleetingly. The hand I had in his hair moved to cup his strong jawline and I turned his head so I could kiss him. Between a breath and kiss he said, "I kind of just gave you a hickey."_

_It was hard to collect the meaning of that. He kind of just gave me a hickey? A hickey that was a visible bruise on the skin and stayed prominent for days at a time? And he'd_ kind of _just given me one?_

_"_What?_"_ _Breaking out of his arms, I struggled to compose myself in front of the mirror. It mattered that my cheeks were flushed, my lips swollen, shirt half undone. To see myself so haphazard because of Craig and not due to one of my fits of paranoia was devistating. Worse than that were the splotches of pink that ran together along my neck, leading toward a very obvious mark that was both red and irritated._

_"No, it's okay, see." Although my face was comprised of nothing but incredulity, Craig seemed pleased with himself and pointed to where the hickey was located. "I put it on your shoulder so you can cover it up!" Very pleased and enthused indeed, for his smile portrayed both of those in an unbearably sweet way. The beat of my heart was thunderous as I focused on the blazing genuality of that smile. He was so proud that he'd tried it was almost pitiful._

_"Craig," I sighed, smiling despite myself. After fixing the sleeve of my flannel, I stood in front of him and observed his oddly vibrant expression. When he smirked, his mouth tended to quirk one way, and when he grinned, it was usually crooked. His smile looked like it was out of place, but it was just harsh enough to belong to a Tucker. The only thing I said was, "Your teeth are crooked."_

_"Is that against your rules or something?" His smile was curving toward snarky, a much different smile from the one that was disappearing as the seconds colesced. He had a variety of them but this softer one I'd never seen before and now it was gone._

_"I don't have rules," I scoffed. "Obviously none concerning manners at least, you giant douche bag." Framing his face in my hands, I pulled him down to me and decided that his teeth were cute. His bottom were more affected than his top, and even then, it was just his front two teeth. There was a barely noticeable overlap, but I thought it gave him character. One of his k-nines was jutting at an odd angle. It looked quirky and I liked it._

_Lifting an idle hand, Craig flicked the collar of my shirt back out of place. My shoulder was exposed to his scrunity and I knew that was exactly what he was doing. He touched the mark, arm curled around my own to reach it from behind. A shiver flounced through my body as his fingertips fluttered above the hickey. My breath ricoched off his cheek._

_His own fanned out agianst my shoulder and it dropped wantonly, displaying the expanse of my throat to him. I took an involuntary step closer, the smell of him like a candle held just beneath my nose. In my own surroundings, his scent was more distinct than usual. The hint of cigarettes was stronger today, but for some reason that appealed to me. I felt like a badass kissing someone who smoked, a silly attractive attribute. It was sexy on Craig, though, I wasn't going to lie._

_The first day I tutored him I'd walked up to find him smoking. I'd pushed it away, but the image of the cigarette between his fingers and the smoke floating from his parted lips just about drove me insane. My pulse picked up at the mere memory. I turned his head again so that our mouths touched. He placed a firm kiss against my bottom lip before he straightened out and brought the two halves of my shirt together._

_I blushed and attempted to push his hands away but he was set on buttoning my shirt for me. "So my teeth aren't a problem?" He asked, fingers continuing to knit the middle of my top together. "I'm not going to get docked points because of them?"_

_"Yeah," I scoffed. "Because we're totally on a point system here. Every crooked tooth is a notch off your Sexy Meter." He pouted dramatically. "Your teeth are actually really cute."_

_"Cute?" He repeated, widening his eyes briefly in a state of disbelief. "Thats quite a uh," pondering on a word or two, the niorette went with, "generous compliment." When I rolled my eyes, he went into an explination. "My teeth look like they've been jacked up by a tire iron compared to yours, dude. I look at your teeth and wish I could rip my mouth off."_

_Although I laughed at his stupidity, I was flattered by his strange compliment. My smile grew when I realized that this was quite possibly the first time he's ever been humble about his own appearence. I hadn't expected teeth to be the thing Craig would be self conscious of, and it wasn't that he was, but the emotion he'd shown had meant something no matter how small. So I asked him, "Do you like you're teeth?"_

_"They're not my best feature," was all he said. There was one of his crooked smirks playing on his lips, but it felt false to me like it was a cover up of sorts. With my head cocked to the side, I tucked my fingers between his own still at the collar of my shirt. Our hands intertwined, they rested just below the hollow of my throat._

_"What else are you not very fond of?" I inquired, genuinely pressing forth for a new angle that wasn't his douche bag side, or his indifferent side, or his classy Craigifer side. I wanted to know the niorette and everything he was about, and there was a reason behind it that was very important, but for now I'd just say he was interesting. He was a phenomenon to me._

_"There's really not much else." He was staring down at me with narrowed eyes, suspicious. I gave him a pointed look, but he refused to relent. "I'm serious, dude. My self esteem runs pretty high so."_

_"Well aren't you lucky," I grumbled. My self esteem went about as high as I-can-psych-myself-out-so-badly-I-need-to-take-three-different-pills-to-calm-myself-down, which wasn't anything to be proud of. That was only when worst came to worst, a rare occasion, but it still occurred so it counted._

_"What?" Craig asked, leaning down until our foreheads touched. "You jealous?"_

_I could honestly say that I was pissed off he'd asked that. Wasn't it obvious enough? "Uh, yeah, I am, asshole. Sure wish I could say that my self esteem's as large as my ego. Oh wait, I can." I was so pissed that I'd just insulted myself._

_Craig's lips quirked down. "You're angry. Want to take it out on my mouth?"_

_"You're a fucking loser," I snorted, unable to refrain from humoring him because sometimes he knew how to redeem himself. I did kiss him though, just to let him know that I had considered his offer. "We should probably go. Otherwise it's never going to happen."_

* * *

><p>—I grinned and said, "Your teeth are cute."<p>

"That's what we're going to do today?" The niorette asked, and if I wasn't mistaken, he sounded rather sour. "Talk about my teeth?"

"I said they were cute!" Laughing, I curled my fingers into a fist and knocked him in the cheek with my knuckles. Returning my hand to my chest, my fingers then decided to coil with Craig's. He intertwined our digits accordingly, each individual finger nestled down to the knuckle.

"And you have a huge man crush on me, so." He shrugged, straightening out in his seat with his fussy attitude situated right next to him. It was sweet though, his smidgen of self consciousness toward his teeth.

_Well, if this isn't an opportune moment then I don't know what is. I hope you're happy with yourself, Craigifer._ "Y-yeah, I do." And then I promptly burried my face agianst his arm in _excitement_, not embarrassment. My bottom lip was between my teeth and I couldn't believe I'd just admitted that but it was Craig's fault for making me feel so fucking _comfortable_.

"Excuse me?" Peeking above the sleeve of his jacket with a smile equivalent to a mischeavious child's, I calculated his expression to be one of pure misunderstanding. I giggled with the same nervous excitement that was bubbling away inside my stomach, pressing close to the walls to escape, and escape it would it. "Did I just hear you say 'I want Craig's dick in my mouth'?"

"Oh my god." I rolled my eyes and squirmed with laughter that I just couldn't seem to get a handle on. "I mean, if you're really adament on believing that's what you heard then I might've said that—I don't know, dude." I couldn't fathom how the hell I'd just played along with him but it was absolutely _thrilling_ and I didn't understand why. It was just time for him to know and if I could flirt while confessing to him then I'd take that over freaking out about it.

"Whoa, _okay_." Craig was laughing such a delightful sound that I couldn't help but feel okay about this. That this was good and he needed to know and he wouldn't abuse the information—well, he would. No doubt about it, he would. But not to ridicule or hurt me. Just to utterly embarrass me and make me regret admiting anything to him in the nicest way he could, which wasn't nice at all. "Where did these balls of yours magically come from, dude?"

We probably looked like we were drugged up, laughing away like we were in his car, still sitting in his driveway, unmoving. "I don't know, man. Sometimes they just appear when the time is right." My answer caused Craig to crack up all over again and I liked knowing that I was the one who made this apathetic fuck express emotion.

"When the time is right," he repeated, testing out the answer for himself before slapping his free hand across his forehead. "Are you sure that this is how you want to tell me you want my nuts? You don't want to buy me roses or clean my room or something little neat freaks like you probably do?"

"Uh yeah," I scoffed, tucking our interlinked hands beneath my chin where I was sure he could feel the pulsating beat of my heart against his fingers. "I might clean your room, though. Just because you offered." Biting my lip again, I glanced back much like before. Craig was staring at something distant, that smirk on his face that was purely egotistical. "S-so what are you thinking?"

"About your monster crush on me?" So it wasn't just huge anymore. Supposedly my crush had just grown in size. _Whatever you want, Craig. _I nodded my head, twiddling with his knuckles with my opposite hand. "Currently in my head I'm giving myself an I Knew It trophy and I'm giving _you_ one for I Told You So." My crush on him was so heavy duty that I'd let him go ahead and brag all he wanted. "So it's all good in my head. And this car. And the world at this exact moment."

"That sounds g-good... and all," I agreed, fingers slipping beneath the cuff of his jacket to touch the skin of his wrist. "B-but uhm, are t-things going to be like... awkward now? This isn't uh," my nerves were settling in and things weren't very funny to me anymore, "you know, this isn't p-platonic to me. Not anymore." Not that it ever was.

I'd be distraught if this ended up being the last moment I spent with Craig all cute and cozy-like. I didn't think I'd be able to handle not kissing him randomly or whenever I wanted. I've never experienced this or these emotions before and I didn't want them to stop. For it to be so sudden—that wasn't something I could take in the condition I was in, as medicated as I was. Craig was just on this level that was so surreal and that nobody else would ever be on.

He— My heart was thunderous, nothing but horse hooves inside of my chest cavity... He could be my first. It was so uncomrehensibly possible and if everything just lined up correctly, there was a chance. If I could get Craig to understand, and I would spend all the time in the world doing it, then it could happen. _We_ could happen and it would be so perfect even if I had no clue what the hell that word meant.

But it all came down to his next response. Every thought I've ever had about the possibility of a—dear god, a _relationship_ with him, would all be determined—not ultimately but a step in that direction—in the next round of seconds. How was it that important moments came around so unexpected? I_ never_ expected this conversation to arise so soon, if at all.

"Stop being melodramatic, dude." Craig reached around and grabbed my chin, inclining my head until our mouths touched in what was kind of like our first kiss all over again because this time it almost meant something. It was there and he was okay with my feelings and I spun around to align our faces in a normal fashion. One of my legs was bent between our chests, the other in his lap. I cupped the strong edges of his jawline, thumbs brushing across the slight scratch of his scruff.

As our lips caught and meshed, the niorette's arm wound around my shoulders, clutching me close. Shifting my fingers through his hair, those silky thick locks of rich obsidian, brought us together until our chests touched, my own heaving against his because I could feel it. I could feel my crush in this kiss, could taste it even. It was Craig's tongue that entered the atmosphere first, rubbing against my lips and I felt a spark of egotism at not having been the one to crack.

I allowed him into my mouth quite eagerly. Our tongues were a frazzled mess and I couldn't seem to get enough of his mouth, tilting into him further and unable to relinquish the kiss even to breathe. Holding out for as long as I could, by the time I _did_ have to pull away, my mouth was so god damn lonely that I had to keep our lips brushing, inhaling sharply to keep my lungs from crumbling. Eyes closed, I focused solely on the firm graze of our mouths held so close together.

Craig chuckled, a husky sound that rang against my ear drums. The stretch of his lips was noticeable against my own. "I uh, definitely felt the passion in that one." My smile was breathless, as was my subtle laughter. Against my thigh in his lap, the niorette's hand was splayed. God, he really could encompass my entire thigh with just one of his hands. Maybe I really was too skinny.

"Shut up," I ordered, my voice nothing but a whisper. Tilting my head the other way, I kissed him from that altered angle and was abruptly ensnared when our tongues immediatly reaquainted. He tasted fresh and clean, an irresistable combination for a half neat freak half germaphobe like me.

"_Mmm,_" Craig interjected, pulling away. _What the hell is he doing?_ My frantic thoughts asked, frustrated when he turned away from me for a second time.

Holding his head in place, I groaned against his cheek and questioned fairly bruskly, "What?"

"_Ouch_," he snickered. "God damn, Tweek. Is this how it's going to be now? Craig wont kiss me so I'm going to threaten him with animilistic snarls?" His palm smacked my thigh lightly, teasingly, but I just wanted to keep kissing him. Not anything else.

"I'm not _snarling_," I grumbled. "I'm warning you that if we stop I'm going to throw you out of your own car." He let me kiss the corner of his mouth but wouldn't allow anything more than that. "_Craig_."

"Oh, no you don't. You're not doing this to me right now, dude." Detaching his arms from around me, he used them instead to _push_ me.

If he wanted war, I would bring the carnage. "_Craigifer_," I commanded, nuzzling our mouths together where I latched onto his bottom lip and sucked tenderly.

"_Ohkay_," he breathed, pushing against my chest at the same time he turned his head. "You really shouldn't be calling me that in this situation." His advice coupled with the darkness just on the brink of consuming his eyes thrust a shiver down my spine. _He likes it when I call him that_, I observed, startled into the realization.

The only thing I'd come to find that Craig seemed to like was perhaps when I tended to scratch him too hard, but this was the first time he'd had to actually _stop_ me because of something I'd done, because of something he'd liked. Did the lengthened version of his name honestly turn him on? He went by _Craig_, though. If he liked it so much, why didn't he request people call him that instead?

A smile full of nothing but disbelief contorted my features. "Hey," I summoned, urging the niorette to look at me. He _wouldn't_. My jaws parted in incredulity. "Craig, hey." Tapping his cheek irked him to turn his head back in my direction but he wouldn't lift his eyes. Paying close attention, I noticed that his chest was rising quite high. _Oh, dear lord._ An astounded sort of amusement harnessed me. "Craig." My murmur was lighthearted, but the niorette was dead set on being difficult. If he wouldn't answer me, then I'd tease it out of him, just like he often did to me. Cupping his cheeks I asked him, "Do you like it when I call you Craigifer?"

His jaw muscles clenched; I could feel them tighten against my palms.

He swallowed and the movement appeared thick. "Fuck. Yeah. I don't know where that came from. You shouldn't call me that, though." By the time he finally raised his eyes, he had his gaze schooled into absolutely nothing. To say I was disappointed wouldn't have explained half of what I felt. I bet if I called him Craigifer, though...

Tracing the dipped shape of his bottom lip with my thumb, I softly cooed "Craigifer," to get the reaction I wanted. His dark lashes rimmed low on his eyes and his chest puffed out significantly. I cocked my head to get a better look at his gaze, but he wavered and his vision dropped to where I couldn't determine a thing. Something about the way he hid the only thing that could ever betray him, his own eyes, made up for not actually being able to see _why_ he was hiding them.

"I'm about to get really turned on really fast if you don't stop that, Tweek." His tone was gutteral and it seared its way through my head, stilling me to the point that Craig manuevered me back into the passenger seat without any sort of fight. Buckling himself in, he put his car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Quickly following suit, I tied myself to my seat and asked where we were going. "The movies," was all he said.

Occupied by my own thoughts, I watched the road with all of the trust I cold harbor in Craig. It wasn't a regular occurance that I ever got into a car with anybody—I didn't _walk_ to school with Thomas because I loved the weather—but the niorette seemed to be my exception to everything. I couldn't believe I'd just told him I had a crush on him and then found out he was turned on by his own name. I started laughing just thinking about it. The quirk fit him perfectly; he was cocky like that.

Suspicious toward my behavior, he asked me, "What are you laughing at?"

Smiling at him I said, "You're turned on by your own name."

For the first time ever, I recieved a pointed stare from him. "It's not my _name_ exactly. It's—" Realizing how that sounded he shut up.

"Oh?" I snickered. "So if it's not the name then it's what? ...Me?" He gave me a 'yeah, yeah' look, motioning for me to get it over with. "I thought _I_ was the one with the crush."

"Don't be arrogant, you little shit. I'm pretty sure you'd get a little frisky if someone started moaning your name, too." We were stopped at a red light at one of those horrible four way intersections that scared the shit out of me. Craig loved them though, and I knew he'd get us through safely.

Holding up a finger for emphasis I told him, "I was _not_ moaning."

"Don't be so quick on that assumption, bro." He held up a finger to mimic me as he made a wide turn through the intersection one-handedly. I nearly threw up. "You were getting a little bitchy and a little moany."

An elongated, exaggerated _pft_ noise left my mouth and I made sure spit sprayed all over Craig's dash just to get back at him. "I don't think I can like you anymore. Moany isn't a word, you ineloquint bastard."

Turning his head, Craig stared at me. "You just spit on my car."

"You called me bitchy."

"You tried to give me a boner and were probably on the verge of raping me!" He accused, flipping me off while he was at it. Controling the wheel with his knee, he removed a cigarette from his pocket and lit it in the cup of his hand, cracking his window in tandem.

"I'm picking out the movie," I forewarned. "And you're paying for me."

Blowing a plume of smoke in my direction, the niorette turned into the spacious parking lot to the local theatre. "What if I don't have money?"

"You got paid a few days ago. I know you have money," I replied smugly.

Scowling he said, "You know too much about me."

Matter-of-factly I stated, "Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't text me saying 'Daddy got paid. Guess who's bringing home the bacon' then."

"I was excited!" He cried, parking in the first spot he found. Of course it didn't matter that it was an entire parking lot away from the theatre itself. Of course it didn't matter that it was _freezing_ out. "You'd be rubbing it in my face too if your pay check was above the five hundred mark. Oh wait, you work for your mom and dad and they don't pay you at all. Bummer."

"I rub it in your face that I have complete control over you. Now tell me you'll buy me my ticket." I know I'd used the voice on him and he didn't even complain as he got out of his car saying, "I'll pay for your ticket." About to exit his car, my eye caught a spot of red in the backseat. Peering into the back, I saw one of Craig's sweaters. It was simple and a shade of deep maroon, but I liked it so I grabbed it, slinging it over my head as I practically crawled into the cold.

The niorette was waiting by the trunk of his car. I couldn't tell the difference between his breathe and the smoke from his cigarette, but I found it attractive either way. He just looked damn good smoking. "I see you've taken to jacking my clothes," he mused, referring to his sweater that was too big with the sleeves that were too long. It was warm and smelt like him so I didn't care.

While we walked, I continued to glance at his hand. His fingers were pale in constrast to his dark jacket, and if I wasn't mistaken, they looked like they needed some company. "How many people do you think we'll see that we know?" I asked, eyes glued to that hand of his.

"Probably not a lot. It's Sunday, so, you know." He didn't seem to notice how I was literally hovering by his hand like a moth to light. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to hold your hand," I informed, reaching out to lace our fingers together. His hand clasped around my own like a heated glove and my pulse spiked at the thought of doing this in public. How he was going to let it happen and didn't seem to mind. "Promise me you'll stop if you see someone we know."

"I thought you were out of the closet," he pondered, ignoring me.

_I am out of the closet, but Thomas doesn't need to hear from a rumor that I was holding your hand because then he'd find out and then I don't know what would happen but I'm a horrible friend and I'd like to keep both you and him even though that's highly unlikely, so please just promise me. _I couldn't tell him that, though. And I couldn't think of a good lie. "Just promise me."

Sighing sarcastically, Craig grumbled, "I promise." It was a good thing he didn't lie, otherwise I'd be more paranoid than I already was. I had it in my head that Thomas had spies, like Butters or Kyle or something, constantly following me everywhere I went with Craig just to make sure his scheme was going according to plan. Had that been true, he would've confronted me a long ass time ago. Either that or he was plotting against me somehow, waiting for the right moment for everything to blow up in my face.

"Do you know what's playing?" I asked, wanting to make a decision early that way we wouldn't have to linger outside. All Craig did was shrug his shoulders, continuing to smoke his cigarette and hold my hand. He was such an unmovable, giant ass block of indifference. "Do you remember the day I first tutored you?"

"Are you going to tell me that's the day you fell in love with me?" When I didn't humor him, he answered, "Yeah, sure. You were a big baby. Of course I'd remember. I'll never be eating at Burger King ever again. Worst day of my life. Horrible experience that I wish I could forget. Traumatized. God, it was awful. Why would you remind me? I thought you cared."

Ignoring all of that, I reminisced, "Only one of your legs was shaved. Why?" He smiled dumbly at whatever memory he was upbringing and I thought perhaps I shouldn't have asked such a happy-inducing question. Sometimes Craig got weird when he was in a good mood.

"I lost to rock-paper-siccors." As if that explained everything. I continued to wait for a suitable answer. "Haven't you ever played it with Kenny?" He asked when he saw that I was still anticipating something that would satisfy my curiosity. Shaking my head, he carried on with, "Well if you lose, you get Axe sprayed on your leg and someone sets it on fire. There was originally just a patch missing and it was bothering me, so I shaved the whole thing. Everyone got a good laugh out of it."

"Boys are so stupid." Straight boys, to be more precise. "I mean, really. What's the point of that?" Craig looked down at me as though I'd just pulled the biggest party fowl of all time and showed up to his party with fruit punch and a wrapped present when everyone else had a red party cup full of beer. Unfortunately, that sounded like a pretty Tweek-like thing to do.

"So what do you do at lunch then? Talk about your gay little buttsex fantasies with your BFF?" I wanted to object to that, but the problem was that sometimes Thomas _did_ like to talk about stuff like that. My opinion was never a part of those conversations—I was too embarrassed to give much of an input—but my best friend had a special technique where he could literally carry on discussions by himself, just as long as there was another person there to make it look like he wasn't delusional.

The best I could put out there was, "Not _all_ the time." Craig was smug, grinning snidely, and I was sure he was handing himself another I Knew It trophy wherever it was that he kept his stash of them inside his head. His thumb rubbed across my own, dipping firmly against my knuckles. Did he realize how snug our hands were? How snug they _always_ were.

Without warning, Craig suddenly bust out laughing, pointing with his cigarette at the liscense plate of a black buggy. It read BALSOUT, which for some reason had the niorette's humor stricken. "That's definitely your liscense plate, dude. Get over there and stand next to it. I want a picture."

Frowning stubbornly, although I understood the jest, I stomped over to the little car and put my thumb up when Craig lifted his phone to take the photo. When he started snickering, I wandered back over and leaned into him on my tip toes to see his phone's screen. I looked just as tiny as the slug bug and very unfortunate. His sweater reached my thighs. "Delete that," I ordered, turning my head against him so I could smell his fragrence of musk and vanilla more clearly. In the cold, he smelt chilly as well.

"It's cute," he contradicted, saving it to his device against my will. "You have that creepy one of me in my boxer-briefs, dude, so don't even try to negotiate." The phone was in his pocket, my hand returned to his, and we were walking before I could argue further.

Scoffing with laughter, I exclaimed, "It's not creepy! It's cute. Cuter than that nasty piece of shit you just put into your poor phone at least." His face was straight and set up in disinterest but I was serious. "Please delete it."

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Flicking the dying butt of his cigarette, Craig huffed out the last of the smoke at my insistence. "You looked cute and small and shit, dude. I'm not deleting it."

_Cute and small and shit. _I had to bite my lip to keep from potentially making fun of him, but I thought that his attempt at actually trying was very sweet and adorable. This was why I liked him; because he _tried_ when he had absolutely no reason to, and perhaps my feelings wouldn't have gotten any farther than the initial point of deeming him worthy of my feelings had he remained stoic and indifferent to me, but he'd responded to my advances quite assuredly.

For that, this was his own fault. This ultimately budding likeness I felt toward him and couldn't seem to supress. This emotion that wanted to grow so badly of which I let do so every time we kissed or touched or even spoke to one another. He was feeding it uncharacteristically well, so well in fact that I thought—well... feasibly, possibly, hopefully, just maybe... ugh god, if somehow he kind of just _knew_ where this would end up.

Glancing down at me, I must've been making a face despite not wanting to tease him, because the niorette asked "What?" in a playful manner.

"I've just never been described as 'and shit' before," I told him, smiling when his eyes narrowed accusatively.

"You've never been described as anything before. I'm the first one who's said anything to you about the way you look. You want extra attention or something just because you've got a thing for me?" Shaking his hand out from mine, he slung his arm around my shoulders and tied me to his chest. "Watch it, dude. Nobody likes an asshole."

Grinning into the side of his torso where his jacket was smooth and cold but it was Craig so I didn't care, I said, "Guess I'm the the exception to that rule, huh?"

"Oh, I see what you did there," the niorette snickered. "Alright, what do you want from me?" We stepped onto the curb and across the way until the order booth was in front of us, as well as a hanging sign that advertised all of the movies and their showtimes. A balding man was sitting in the cubicle, staring into space with a bored expression. Definitely didn't have to worry about him being a spy for Thomas.

"I want a ticket for Sherlock Holmes and a better compliment that doesn't have a cuss word in it." My request was given out at the same time I smiled up at the niorette, lips curled too sweetly, that way he'd know I was enforcing that last bit.

"Yeah, of course. Just let me rip my balls of and hand them to you as a bonus," Craig grumbled, dragging me up to the order booth with him. The man behind the glass blearily exited his mindless daze, asking what we'd like to see. After asking for two tickets for the one forty-five showing, the niorette turned to me, inquring, "Sherlock Holmes? Really?"

"Yep!" As he exchanged his money for the tickets, I snatched mine and pulled him after me into the warmth of the theatre. "Jude Law's fucking sexy," was my only explanation as I inhaled a rush of buttery air that melted the chill that'd built up in my sineses. There was a moment of automatic dethaw as I investigated the building for any potential spies. A few couples resided at the lit up consession stands, and a group or two of twelve year olds—that embarrassing age where you believed you were cool and nothing more—lingered by the minature arcade off to the side.

None of them seemed to be selfless enough to do another person's dirty work so I readjusted Craig's arm around my shoulders and walked us toward the ticket-taker. An older woman was working the enclosed area, almost like a second entrance, causing me to think that maybe today I'd be lucky for once. My real worry was in the employees behind the consession stand who were almost always teenagers of South Park, all of whom I couldn't decifer from so far away.

"How do you go from Jude Law to me?" Craig wondered as we listened unanimously to the graying woman instructing us to go to the right for threatre five. "Oh, and by the way," he started, ambling leisurely across the dark carpet; it was hard to match up my own left-footed stumble with his stroll. "I'm keeping that picture because you look absolutely ravishing."

An instantenous giggle errupted from my mouth. Playfully, Craig pressed a finger against my lips and told me shush. I had his digit in my mouth, biting the tip lightly, as we came up to the consessions. There were only three people working, each of them young but too old to be keeping an eye out for awful best friends. Around the niorette's finger I said, "I want a Pepsi and skittles. Or starbursts. Which sounds better?"

"You're actually going to share?" He teased, shaking his hand to free his finger. "Might as well get both." To the cashier, he asked, "Can I get a large Pepsi, and skittles and starbursts for the pirana?"

He could've gotten one or the other, I mean, the god damn candy wasn't cheap here, but he hadn't. Because I'd considered the two, he wanted—'wanted' might've been a longshot—to get me both. Didn't stuff like that _mean_ something?

"_What?_ A pirana?" Coffee Bean, tree elf, pirana, little shit—Craig liked me so much.

"Yeah, dude. I'm honestly imagining a hundred little Tweeks popping up and all of them are going to eat me. Or rape me." He shrugged his shoulders for either-or.

"You get to carry everything for that one," I informed.

Tossing his head back, dark hair tickling the back of his jacket, the niorette groaned. "One arm for you, one hand for the soda, another for the fucking pirana snackies—oh wait, I don't have three fucking arms." Dropping his head in time with 'oh wait', he stared at me unhumorously.

"You've got pants, though!" Grabbing the skittles and starbursts from the returning cashier, I pulled up Craig's shirt to tuck the boxes into the hem of his jeans. My eyes found the soft line of his happy trail and I didn't want to stare in public but I wanted to touch it so bad, to brush my fingers against that light line of hair. Clearing my throat against the oncoming thickness in my throat, I dropped his shirt and tore my gaze away from the lower half of his body.

Craig was smirking, grabbing our drink with one hand, my fingers with the other. Of course he'd known. He was intuned to me like that, having been around my characteristics regarding my attraction to him for the last five-six months. And now my mouth was dry but I didn't want to ask for the soda because then he'd _really_ know. _Fuck_, why was he so appealing?

Thomas was smart to have chosen such a charming guy, but I was a mastermind for taking him first. I just couldn't _touch_ him, not like my best friend quickly would. If I got my hands on him—dear god, I'd self-descruct. Just thinking about it made my insides catch fire. Whether I could trust myself with massaging him or not, I had no idea.

In the hallway leading toward the fork that separated the threatres one through thirteen, there were some people that I thought appeared iffy. Whether it was because I was nervous due to Craig or plagued by the thought of Thomas, I came close to throwing myself away from the niorette. Except the people turned out the be sneaks. They were those unusual young looking older kind of folks that tricked me every time.

Settling back against Craig, we eventually found our way into the dimly lit theatre where we were either early or the movie really sucked because nobody was inside. Thomas could've had camers set up, god damn it. A movie was a horrible decision on Craig's part. Why had I agreed? _Well, I actually hadn't wanted to, but someone decided to be a baby about their full name._

I glared at the niorette, but he was too consumed in excitment over getting the front seats with the bar to notice. He even let go of my hand to jump over the rail, officially deeming them our seats by holding his arms above his head and calling out as though I were far away and not right below him, "Great movie selection, Coffee Bean!" His raised limbs caused his shirt to ride up and I saw a sliver of his skin as well as the boxes sticking out of his pants, thankfully covering his stomach.

"Thank Jude Law, not me." Choosing to take the one step on the stairs instead of Craig's long-legged leap, I walked down the aisle to sit down beside him. He was just beginning to remove the boxes from his pants when my eyes were drawn to his stomach and the thin line of hair dropping from his navel. It stood out more pronounced, darker in the dusty light pilfering throughout the empty, spacious room.

That's when the words came to me without any preamble. "I'm going to ask you something and it's really embarrassing, so don't laugh, okay?" The niorette didn't even pause his actions as he hummed an affirmative. To be honest, his nonchalance made me feel better about my modesty. "Can I—uh, uhm. Can I touch your happy trail?"

His legs were stretched, knees slightly bent, resting his feet against the rail, and the bottom of his shirt was rolled above his navel carelessly. He wore his jeans low, a slim layer of his boxer-briefs protruding from their hem. His stomach was flat and pale, V lines visible grooves in his hips. Where my mouth had once been dry, I was practically salivating now. Craig's smirk was visible in his voice seeing as I couldn't lift my eyes from his stomach when he said, "Go ahead."

Maybe my nerves were obvious because he added, "You don't have your own to touch?" The question and being able to answer it seemed to quell some of my anxiety, even if the answer was kind of humilitating to admit.

"I don't have one," I murmured, voice unable to rise any higher. We were close enough for him to hear me, though. The arm rest wasn't between us, and I was turned in my seat toward him, my knees pressed against his thigh. Hesitently, I reached out a delicate hand, and saw in contrast to Craig's own skin, how fragile mine came across as being. "B-but I don't like h-hair anyways, s-so..."

My fingertips brushed lightly against the underside of his belly button—an inny, so that was good; outies tended to be creepy and gross. My breath locked inside of my chest as my touch traced the fuzzy line lower, yet slowly so as to torture myself with the feel of his somewhat fascinating body hair.

I didn't understand why I liked it on him when it wasn't often that I liked the existence of such a disgusting human characteristic to begin with. Craig snickered, causing my fingers to press more firmly against the warm skin of his belly. "I'm ticklish," he said. I didn't even realize when my lips twitched breathlessly in response, too amazed by what was beneath my hand to detect anything outside of my entranced zone.

The pads of my fingers nicked the elastic wasteline of his boxer-briefs, shaking me out of my revere. Air flooded my lungs and I made to fling my hand away, but Craig's own shot out to stop me. His palm was unbearably warm against the back of my hand as again, the feel of my breath suspended in my lungs overcame me, too close to the last breathless moment that I was suddenly lightheaded. God, he shouldn't have been sitting there with his legs slightly spread, my hand on his stomach.

"It goes lower," he stated simply, tone terribly low. The sound of his voice rupturing the hollow noiselessness of the theatre sent a shiver coiling up my spine like a split-second sour zing on my tongue. My body temperature spiked, a noticeable change in the atmosphere. He pushed against my hand until my fingers snagged the elastic start of his boxer-briefs and, dear god, he was making me drag them down so I could feel his happy trail thicken and his V lines were narrowing in the most seductive way.

I could feel myself resorting to anxiety just so I could avoid this immense attraction I felt toward Craig and his stupid body that I wanted all over me. _Shit, fuck, oh God._ Thomas was going to be so, so, so upset with me. He'd wanted a foolproof plan—he shouldn't have depended on me to impliment it. I shouldn't have found rebelling agianst him so enticing, but slouching forward to whisper against Craig's mouth while my best friend—always so lucky with flirting and guys and relationships—was sitting idle and unaware, it made me feel superior to him for the first time.

Lips moist and parted, I spoke against them, "Don't f-fucking tempt me or else I'll call you-"

"Okay, enough of that." He plucked my hand from his stomach and tossed it at me. I broke into a fit of laughter and that was how the first set of people coming to watch the movie saw us. Thankfully not what took place before their arrival, otherwise I would've been mortified and probably would've taken it out on Craig.

He was lucky on two accounts: that he'd stopped me before I'd said his full name, and that he'd stopped me before our company showed up. I was honestly still perturbed that his name—not even his name-name, it had to be his _full_ name—turned him on. If I felt superior to an unknowing Thomas, then I felt even more so to a Craig that was well aware. I'd be using his little weakness against him every chance I got.

The theatre never quite reached a fairly populated capacity, but there were others who sat in our row and I didn't like how close they were because it made me too afraid to get close to Craig. I kept asking him for our drink so he eventually put the arm rest between us and I didn't like that either but I didn't refute his decision. At one point he fell asleep—Sherlock Holmes could be too intellectual for some people—and when he woke up he wanted to feed me starbursts and skittles. I made him give them to me one color at a time because I felt bad when one color was eaten more than the others, even if the yellows, oranges, and greens tasted bad.

Craig was texting people too, which was annoying, specifically Clyde where they were conversing about something that made the brunette upset. He kept answering with no's and angry faces while Craig replied with things like _I know you like him _and _Just admit it already, dude_. I'd ask him what it meant later, although I had an inkling it had to do with Kevin Stoley. Sometimes he'd gasp every time Jude Law got screen time and swooned whenever he did something cool. It was all very embarrassing.

By the time the movie was over and we were back in his car, waiting desperately for the interior to heat up, he was rambling on about Noomi Rapace and how much he adored her nose. He was letting me sit in his lap so I could huddle against his body heat, but I was about to go on a full on rampage about how sexy Jude Law was if he didn't shut up about Noomi Rapace's gypsy role in the movie.

"Dude," Craig mused, tipping my head up by his fingers on my chin. "I think I have a crush on your nose." My cheeks lit up at the mere mention of me and a crush in the same sentence. Why was my nose so lucky and I wasn't?

"What did you just say?"

"Yeah, man," he clarifed. "You totally fucking have Noomi Rapace's nose. It's like an Avatar nose, only more human." An Avatar? I blanced. Like the blue people?

"What?"

"Your nose, Tweek. I think I really fucking like it." I rolled my eyes. He was just hyped up about fucking Noomi. But his features were lit so bright he was like a lantern. His eyes, coldrauns of blue ice, were glowing fiercely. "Like, I'm dead fucking serious. Your nose is the cutest thing I've ever seen, next to Stripe."

"My nose is just a nose," I tried to tell him.

"No fucking way, dude. You have one of those noses that comes down from the corners of your eyes, and it's kind of flat." I felt distaste toward that description. Flat sounded unflattering and wide. "Like a bull terrier or something. Avatar, I don't know."

Great. I was a fucking dog with no disconnection between my forehead and my nose. "Thanks, Craig. R-Really."

"Why are you getting upset?" _Because I have a wierd nose, you love Noomi Rapace, who's a girl, and you only like my nose because it reminds you of her. _"I'm telling you straight up that I've got a big boner for your nose. You should feel honored."

"My nose doesn't look like that," I grumbled, burrying my head beneath his chin. The skin of his neck was hot against my cheek and I hugged my shoulder where I knew the hickey Craig had given me earlier was located.

"Yes, it does. And I like it. Stop being a baby. I don't want to leave you all pissy when I have to go to work."

* * *

><p>Later, Thomas came in while I was working and got to chatting about a particular subject that I wasn't very comfortable with when it came to him, but it had to happen. "Yeah," I randomly started, whiping the counter off although it wasn't dirty. "So how about hanging out with me and Craig soon?" <em>You're not going to get anywhere, but I've got to make you think everything's good somehow. <em>I made sure to face away from him as I asked so he wouldn't see the tight expression on my face.

"Really?" He asked, genuinely surprised. Excitement etched the outer region of his tone. I remembered him telling me that every time we could've hung out—car rides, lunch, the time he randomly left in the middle of the parking lot—was all because he wanted everything to go according to plan. He didn't want anything to happen any sooner or later than it had to because he had the utmost faith in the plan and his best friend. _Well, isn't that just unfortunate._ "You're actually inviting me out with you guys? I was beginning to think you were getting a little selfish."

_I am selfish. You have no idea how much. And I'm only allowing this out of selfishness._ Forcing my hand to still its vigorous swiping, I turned around to smile at him and hoped it didn't look fake or tired. "I've just been waiting to see how long your patience would go before it'd snap. You beat me."

He laughed, completely oblivious. To be honest, I was kind of proud of myself for putting up such a front. Thomas wasn't always the easiest to deceive, but I seemed to be doing it quite well. "What are we going to do?" He asked, excitement intesifying at the thought of spending quality time with his crush. _Yeah, well I spend quality time with my crush every day._

"I don't know. I'll let Craig know, though." Taking out my phone from my pocket, I texted Craig a quick _You're going to hang out with me and Thomas sometime soon, okay? Like, in the next few days soon. _When it was sent, I put it back into my pocket and leaned against the counter with Thomas right across from me. I didn't like the thought of this picture, the two us together with the added body of Craig.

"Has he ever been to Sprouts?" Of course Thomas would want to hang out with the biggest carnivore ever at the wholefood store he practically lived at. If it didn't exist, he would've died a long time ago.

"Yeah right," I scoffed, actually laughing at the thought of Craig in the middle of everything organic and healthy. "He eats like a pig and his favorite place to shop is QuickTrip. Or Token's house. Either one will do."

"Then this'll be a good experience for him," the golden blonde concluded, smiling in a way that appeared so natural and just plain old good looking that I didn't want Craig to see him. If they hung out together I'd never have a chance, not that I honestly believed I had one to begin with.

What was even worse was the thought of them liking each other's company so much that they'd decide to hang out on their own terms—without me to stand guard. It was terrifying to think about.

"Craig might—" My phone vibrated to which I was surprised because he was working and wasn't supposed to be using his phone on the job. I checked it to see what the niorette's answer was and covered my face at what I saw. When Thomas asked to see it too, giddy in the most irritating way, I showed it to him.

_Holla. Let's have a homosexual fiesta._


	19. Chapter 19

I bet nobody was expecting this update. LOLOL. You poor things. I still love you and I think you'll like this chapter (:

AonTutt: Hopefully you're still hanging on because the update's finally here XD

Quite Rightly: :'D Happy belated birthday!

AutoMan331: You're invited to the next homosexual fiesta :P

ElementalDrake: Hahahahaha. I sure hope this chapter will clear up your blue-balls D:

* * *

><p>"Hey," I murmured, sneaking my fingers beneath Tweek's scarf. Supposedly he wasn't wearing anything beneath his jacket so the willowy article was necessary to maintain warmth. "How's your hickey doing?" The fabric, gray tendrils of darker and lighter shades, slid from his neck with ease as I unwound it from his slender throat.<p>

"I think it's gone." He sounded unsure, voice missing its substance as my fingers trailed down the length of his revealed skin toward the zipper of his jacket. I played with it between my fingers, teasing him as I rubbed our noses together. In all honestly, I really did like his nose. It was Stripe that he reminded me of and I just couldn't stop myself from admiring something like that.

About an hour ago we'd been laying on my couch, watching a movie. Inception to be specific. I was against the back of the couch with Tweek on his side in front of me. Had our legs been bent, we would've been spooning. For a while I'd had my head resting on his shoulder, eyes focused on the screen. Sometime during that hour, Tweek had rolled around to face me where he'd entangled our legs and watched me as I viewed Leonardo Dicaprio. At eleven o'clock, his eyelids had begun to fall, so I'd taken to waking him back up by getting frisky—which was where we were at now.

"Gone?" That didn't settle right in my stomach. The past week or so I'd been at ease knowing that Tweek had to hide my mark, although easily, and thinking that it could have disappeared made me feel a strange sort of disposition. I could remedy it just fine, an idea of which I was certainly going to partake in. Whether the hickey was there or not, I'd either fix it or give him another.

Slipping his zipper loose, I nudged my fingers beneath the collar of his jacket and folded it over his shoulder down to just about the middle of his forearm. His skin was a creamy color, arm thin where it protruded, and shoulder bone a jutting point. In the light of the television I noticed something I hadn't recalled before, something that I instantly liked insatiably. Tweek had freckles on his shoulder, perhaps from getting too much sun in that one area, because they were located nowhere else.

A smirk adorned my lips as I looked at the pale dots, skimming my fingers across the dappled pattern. The blonde was frazzled at my random response, asking worriedly, "I-Is it still there?" Shifting my vision to the significantly diminished hickey laying atop a small portion of his freckles, I informed him of the verdict, and leaned into his smooth skin to add to the shrinking bruise. Tweek's hands were clutching my chest as my mouth stooped against the delicate curve of his shoulder.

I began sucking, kneading his skin between my teeth. The action was so vigorous that the blonde shifted closer, dropping his shoulder as a mewled "_O-Oh,_" quietly passed his lips. His reaction unfurled a greediness within me and I detached my mouth, reaching with one arm to fumble over his body for the remote. I turned off the TV, dousing us in darkness, unable to feel secluded with that handsome Leonardo DiCaprio talking about dream levels through the speakers. My mouth instantly reconnected with his flesh, kissing and nipping a trail across his freckles.

Something about the darkness must've comforted Tweek for it unsheathed a cooperation that hadn't been there before. He rolled onto his back, pulling me after him where he ended up beneath my looming figure, just a patch of darkness slouched over his own. I grappled for the tassel of his jacket, dragging down the zipper while the blonde shook out his arm from his sleeve. That same limb wrapped around my shoulders and my palm travelled down the expanse of its slimness, stopping to rest securely at the base of his shoulder. My mouth remained in tuned to his skin, lapping at the growing mark I was nursing.

There was a dangerous allure hovering around the blonde when I touched him outside of that goddamn massage and it fueled me, excited me to the point that simply pressing my fingers against his warm skin was ridiculously invigorating. His breath continued to fan my neck in uneven hot gusts, each one drilling into my conscious where my brain deciphered them as teasing things. A winding heat was coursing through my veins, growing thicker every time he exhaled.

He scrabbled underneath me, scouring for a position that would satisfy him. The pitch black of the living room was doing fucking wonders as his final squirm resulted in his knees braces against my hips, his arm tangled around my shoulders, his mouth breathing against my neck. I could feel his chest heaving beneath me, the hitch in his posture every time my grip on him tightened sporadically, and when I bit and blew against the hickey I'd created, he began placing open mouthed kisses down the column of my throat.

Humming encouragingly, I licked the salt exterior of his skin and began to mar other areas of his shoulder. His lips didn't go any farther than the collar of my shirt, but it was there that he nipped cautiously like he was honestly scared he'd do something wrong and mess up what was as simple as a hickey. Unwilling to tear my mouth away to tell him he was fine, I instead reassured him by handling his legs with a firm tug. The backs of his thighs met the fronts of mine, an action which startled him into attacking my neck, nibbling and sucking at my skin in a way that hurled a lit match against the walls of my stomach.

My hand receded from his back, slipping around his thin torso where I felt the rapid extension of his ribcage against my fingers as well as the lift of his stomach. Skin shivering against my palm, his breath caught when my fingertips circled his navel. Touch skimming across his soft abdominals, I felt firsthand that he was indeed missing a happy trail. A chuckle tumbled from my lips as my hand worked its way back up the other side of his chest. Underneath the fold of his jacket it went; he still wore it on one arm. Some of the littlest details like that were cute on him.

His thighs were a steady pressure against my own, always in the back of my mind. Burrowing my face into the crook of his neck, I tried to breathe and wondered how long it'd take me before I finally caved and grabbed his ass. It wouldn't be long if he kept dragging out the sucking of his mouth so languidly. I felt like he was pulling something from my body, drawing something out of me and the more he did, the more worked up I got. In the back of his throat, slight coos were transforming as my hand crawled across the expanse of his stomach, stroking his wavering skin until he broke away from my neck and wriggled beneath my touch.

The sound of his breath was a harsh echo in the silence of my house. It spoiled my ears and sent my pulse beating at a maddening pace. I wanted to see his face and the expression he wore, the hickeys on his shoulder. I wanted to see, not feel, the heavy compression of his chest every time he exhaled. I could close my eyes and see it but that wasn't good enough—and, fuck, my skin felt like it was just one temperature too hot. Influenced by the moment, I did the first thing I could think of to alleviate the fluctuation of my slight fever.

"No, no, no," trickled from Tweek's mouth as I sat up on my knees, hands on the hem of my shirt. Raising my arms, I slung off the useless article and shook out my hair. It wasn't until it was gone that I realized what the blonde had been chanting or how rapidly my own chest was extending and receding. Kneeling on the couch, the blonde's thighs parted across my own. I stared down at him and could feel his own eyes on me although I couldn't see anything but the glow of his light skin.

A driving force that appeared out of nowhere—spontaneously inhabiting my body—urged me to grab ahold of Tweek, to help lift him to his knees. Practically weightless, I maneuvered him like a rag doll, slinging him into my arms where I felt the skin of our chests touch. The blonde's heart was beating so fast, his stomach shaking against my own so harshly. His cheek was pressed against my collar, one hand clutching my forearm, the other clinging to my back while, despite his desperate hole, he was choking out snippets like "We shouldn't" and "We can't".

But he never got any farther than that and I knew this was what he wanted, could feel how horribly he was craving me down to his very bones. He was still mumbling incoherent words as he twisted his arm around my neck and leaned up to find my mouth. His kiss was so shameless, nothing but tongue and spit, that the first place my hands went were his ass. I grabbed the slight curve of his rear and tugged him against me, both hands digging into his shape to find he fit immaculately.

"_C-Craig_," Tweek whispered. Tipping my head back, eyelids fluttering, I moaned against the feel of his nails digging into my skin and a stirring in my stomach that was one colossal warning. _Don't call me Craigifer. Don't call me Craigifer._ But I was thinking about that time in my car and I could hear his voice so clearly in my head that I had a hard time distinguishing it as my imagination—Fuck, my body reacted to him in ways that I hadn't thought possible with anyone. I was asexual god damn it.

Flinging myself away from him, I stumbled blearily from the couch and had to catch my breath some feet away with my hands on my knees, clutching violently. Tremors were coursing through my body, revolting against my decisions, as I fought off what could've been. Tweek was blubbering behind me, something about _why?_ and I wanted to go back to him so bad that I had to mentally beat myself out of the idea.

"Shit, dude. Stop talking for one fucking second," I growled, unable to listen to his voice with all of these thoughts still revealing themselves in my head. "Do you want me to get a god damn fucking boner? Just shut your mouth. Fuck." Raking a hand through my hair, I straightened out and began laughing as my hand dripped down my face like sticky sludge. "You almost got me there, dude. You have no clue how close that was. You weren't even going to stop."

"What?" He implored, tone feeble and cracking. I didn't think he'd heard me that entire time. The poor kid was probably still confused as to why he was alone so suddenly.

Well, that couch was cursed. Boners were going to be popping up all over the place if I sat back down.

"I need a cigarette," I told him. "I'll be out back."

Wandering through my living room by memory, I exited the back door and stepped into the backyard where it was cold and I was shirtless. _Perfect_, my mind purred, feeling my temperature shake and drop as the chilly weather attacked me. Retrieving a cigarette from my back pocket, I lit the tip and inhaled a great plume of smoke.

My lungs were doused with the nicotine, as seemed to be all of my thoughts. Everything evened out as I took another drag, and then my entire thought process became menial after a few more. It was around the second half of my cigarette that the door opened and Tweek came skittering out, hugging his jacket around himself. He still looked out of it, lips swollen in the moonlight, eyes nothing but pupil.

He glanced up at me, momentarily entranced, before looking at the moon. "I was scared by myself in the dark," he explained, probably still paranoid about that nonexistent demon. I nodded my head, exhaling smoke into the night soundlessly.

When he stepped closer, body wrought with tension, I observed deftly, just kind of lost to the world. "I gave you a hickey," he said, staring owlishly at my throat. When I nodded again, he sighed and stepped away.

_He didn't have to do that_, I thought, wondering where the hell my voice had gone.

Deciding I should find it, I cleared my throat and told him, "I gave you like, five."

His features were lifted into awe. "Really?"

"Yeah. They're all over." His hands immediately flew to his neck, terror overcoming his expression. Before it could rein for very long, I assured him , "They're on your shoulder. Don't worry." Nodding his head, he dropped his arms back down to hug his stomach, notably calmer. My next words were said with the smoke from my cigarette twisting around the words. "You've got cute freckles."

"Y-You think they're cute?" He asked as though I hadn't just said so. His cheeks were tinted pink and it wasn't because of the cold. Nope, that was my bad and I was very proud of myself.

"Yep. You're just really cute in general," I confessed. "Do you know what just happened?"

The blonde only had time to stutter out a response instead of actually comprehending how I'd just complimented him. "I—uh. You ran away."

I ran away. Craig Tucker ran away from Tweek Tweak. Wow. That was pretty... Who the fuck was I kidding? It is what it is.

"You were about to have a boner on your hands," I explained, snubbing out my cigarette against the wall.

The blonde clammed up like grabbing his ass and him moaning my name wouldn't do that to me. A slight twinge—the residue of a shiver—tenderly landed on the base of my spine. Yeah, I'd need to stay outside for a bit longer. The cold was definitely my friend tonight.

"You—what? Are you sure?" He was ogling up at me incredulously.

No, of course I wasn't sure. I just liked to randomly threw myself over the edge of the couch whenever I kissed him. _Just in case_.

Lifting my eyes toward the stars, I said vacantly, "Uh yeah. Pretty sure, dude. You know that code red feeling you get before it happens?" When Tweek shook his head, that same ogling stare on his face, I raised my brows in skepticism. "You've never had an erection?"

Puffing his cheeks out, pink in the face, he clarified, "Well—_yeah_. It's just never l-like, I don't know. Sometimes I'll get morning wood but not, like-"

"Stimulated?" I threw out. Not the most exact guess, but it would do. I kind of hand stimulation on my mind.

"Y-Yeah," he admitted.

Shrugging my shoulders, I told him, "Well, theres a point of no return and I almost crossed that."

The topic must've spooked him because the next thing he said changed the subject. Standing a foot away, he was staring up at me intently as he asked, "So you think I'm cute?"

Of course that wouldn't get passed him. Smirking, I nodded my head and spared him a glance. The tip of his animalistic nose that I was incredibly fond of was turning rosy. "Like right now," I acknowledged, watching the way his entire facade seemed to light from within.

Tweek smiled at me with all of the admiration a first crush could muster and said, "I think your everything's cute."

* * *

><p>Later that week I was invited to go to some place called Sprouts with Thomas and Tweek. The blonde had described it as being Thomas's favorite place on earth and warned me that it was a health food store. I had to ask why we were going to hang out at store—a health food store of all places. He'd told me that Thomas needed to buy groceries, which was acceptable, but why he couldn't do it on his own time I didn't understand. Why drag poor Craig with you? Homosexual fiesta it was.<p>

After picking up Tweek and his best friend, we went to the health food store of which I could practically back into it was so close to the vegan boy's house. Had Tweek not informed me of its background, I still would've been able to tell right away what kind of groceries it stored inside. The sign was vibrant and green; the people walking through the parking lot, in and out of the building, were all skinny things and a lot of females. I knew right away that no, I would not look like any of these health nuts when I was older. It was actually an unfortunate conclusion I'd made about myself seeing as I was probably going to die from a heart attack.

Inside the store was even worse. Right once you walked in you were taken to aisles of organic medicine and probably what was those weird indian herbal salves and shit. I wished we'd entered from the other side where the bakery was located, although there was probably just rice cakes over there or something just as cardboard-like and tasteless.

"Well," I said, more uppity that I felt. "Thanks for showing me this place. It's been great hanging out with you guys." Literally, I made to turn around but Thomas had my hands tied to the cart before I could make a run for it.

"You're just put off by all the medicine—_fuck_. That's just for women when they get older, I swear!" Oh boy, that made me feel so much better about this torture chamber. "Here," he pushed the edge of the cart until we were heading toward the center of the store. "We can go to all the snacks first. That's what got Tweek to come here at first. Now he's hooked."

Said blonde, who was currently my only purchase in the entire store since he was in the cart, was feeling a little down today. I'd placed him in the cart so he wouldn't mope around.

"I'm not h-hooked to this place," he objected, tone of voice dejectedly moody. It'd been like that all day and neither Thomas or I knew why. "I only come here for iron supplements and their frozen dinners." He resorted to his unsocial shell of what was probably poverty and great grief, plucking at the frayed edge of his sweater with a distasteful look on his face. "They're cinnamon roasted almonds aren't that bad, either." His mumble was nothing more than a hushed breath.

"I love cinnamon roasted almonds." It was then that I started heading toward the middle portion of the store with a revived determination where large troughs of varied containers were set up. Thomas commented that see, everything's fine, he knew I'd find something I'd like here, and, everyone always did.

Stopping at the first wall of clear containers, I saw that each was filled to the brim with different contents. Bags, scoops, tags and pencils, and scales were set up around the perimeter. This first collection of mixes were candy types like chocolate covered nuts, mini peanut butter cups, malt balls, and gummies.

"The almonds are on the other side, but we can work our way around," Tweek suggested. He began leaning over the edge of the cart to lift the lid of the container holding the peanut butter cups where he plucked one out and poised it for throwing. "Open your mouth," he instructed, grinning when I dropped my jaw immediately. "Just be careful with these ones. They definitely aren't Recees."

_Well great. Now I don't want that in my mouth._

His toss caused the chocolate chunk to bounce off my forehead.

"Next," I quickly called, pushing the cart forward so the blonde couldn't grab an identical chocolate to the one he'd just thrown. "Didn't want that shit anyways." He giggled, taking out a malt ball between the pinch of his index and thumb, immensely careful not to touch any of the others. "Are you going to tell me that that one doesn't taste like a Whopper?"

After chirping "Yep," that one hit me in the throat and it hurt.

Thomas stepped in on the third round, telling Tweek, "You suck at this. Let me try."

The blonde in the cart immediately shut in on himself, hunkering back down into his subdued melancholy state of unfriendliness. He stayed like that for the rest of my taste testing trials, almost all of which Thomas aimed perfectly at, a skill he'd honed from numerous games of beer pong, he'd gloated.

It turned out I didn't like any of the trail mixes or nuts or little wheat sprigs or nasty yogurt drops, and the cinnamon roasted almonds were just okay.

"Maybe we'll have better luck at the bakery," Thomas mused, bagging himself some nuts.

_Hahahaha, good one, Craig._

But really, he was packaging a shit ton of walnuts and peanuts and cashews like a shortage was about to encompass the nut fields of California or where ever the hell they were harvested from.

Down at the bakery, there wasn't anything like donuts or muffins or bear claws. There was bread: flat bread, whole wheat loaves, weird flavored shit I've never even heard of before nor found appetizing. Tweek asked to be rolled by the pasta counter where there was tapioca pudding, greek salad, chicken salad—all a considerably better selection than the bread—already measured into pre-packaged cups. Tweek asked the frail woman working the behind the register for a sample of something Mediterranean.

He must've felt at ease in Sprouts because he was able to go up to an employee he wasn't familiar with. A lot of the people _did_ come across as relatively similar to him. It was rare that he ever associated with workers for whatever reason. When the woman came back, she held a tiny plastic fork spired through noodles, red bell pepper, and something green. Taking it, the blonde hovered one hand underneath incase anything fell.

Holding it out to me, he said, "There's asparagus and broccoli—I-I know you like them."

God damn, this kid really did have a crush on me. And he was being cute about it, too. He paid attention to everything I said or did, even when I wasn't aware. He had to have watched me pluck all of the green vegetables out of my mom's pasta salad awhile back.

Leaning over the handle bar of the grocery cart, I opened my mouth and removed the bite of salad from the fork prongs. The taste had that sour salad dressing kind of flavor, but the noodles and vegetables muted it, and the greens weren't too strong with their own essence.

"Hmm." I nodded my head, causing Tweek to smile, satisfied. "Not too bad, Coffee Bean."

"_Cunt_—what's not too bad?" Thomas asked, throwing flat bread at Tweek. The package hit him in the face and flopped onto his chest where he left it, once again shut down. I was beginning to see a pattern.

"Tweek's choice of pasta salad," I explained.

The blonde rejoiced for one bright second before slumping back against the cart while Thomas nodded his head and sifted through the containers of salad organized on a cold rack. "Do you guys want to eat here? I haven't had anything today." I glanced around the store as if to ask "Eat what?" and "Where?"

There were a few quaint tables set up between the pastas and the bread, their borders as green as the Sprouts sign advertising the store. One was already occupied by a mother and their child, a child that would probably live to be one hundred-twelve if they grew up and continued the lifestyle their mom had obviously planned out for them if what they were eating—sliced apples and sugarless, fatless blueberry scones—meant anything.

When I turned back around, Tweek was shuffling through the salad selection much like Thomas. They looked like a pair except Tweek was bent over and I might not have been able to take my eyes off his butt. I wondered how creepy I looked: this tall, brooding structure shopping with two very much so gay blondes, staring at one of their asses so openly.

"Do you want to share?" Tweek asked, turning his head with his body still bent over the edge of the cart, one arm bracing himself against the salad rack. He saw the line of my sight and glared, shaking his head vigorously. Despite my pout, I nodded my head, figuring that if I couldn't stare at his ass, then I might as well share a snack with him. As he turned back around though, I continued to look.

The two blondes bought their containers of healthy, life-enriching salad, though it was more like Thomas paid and Tweek snuck his purchase in there. "Uh." He looked around the area outside of his place in the cart. "Can you help me out of here?" He asked, smiling sheepishly.

Shrugging playfully, I murmured, "Guess I could." The blonde gave me a humorless stare before trying to do the stupidest thing I've ever seen. He was trying to _stand up. T_his clumsy little guy in the fairly unstable grocery cart. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Grabbing him so he wouldn't go any higher, I stabilized his body by his shoulders, telling him, "I've got this. Don't try to stand, you fucking idiot."

Tweek froze on impulse and Thomas started snickering somewhere behind me.

"Sit back down," I instructed, and when he did, I slipped one arm beneath his knees, the other against his back. He was easy to lift as I swung him out of the cart and I didn't necessarily want to put him down but I did it anyways. His little black boots clacked against the ground and he immediately set to fixing his clothes, cheeks a subdued, tinted pink.

At the table, Thomas was waiting with amusement in his eyes. He'd set forks and napkins on the table, already picking through his own quarter pound container of pasta. Tweek and I sat ourselves down next to him, me across and the fidgety blonde in between who'd started prying off the clear lid of our larger portion of salad. It was the same one I'd sampled, the one with the asparagus and broccoli.

"I just want the good stuff," I told him, forking up an asparagus sprig. "I call dibs on anything that's green."

"Well, good," he concluded, unfazed by splitting the pasta in such a way. Or so I thought. "I hope t-there's fungus or something and you die." And then less masochistic, "I like the noodles anyways."

"I know you do," I teased, winking when he frowned, displeased.

Thomas barked with laughter, smiling around the fork in his mouth. "Tweek hates gay jokes," he informed me, but I'd already been hanging out with him for six months to know that. "Especially when he walks right into them."

"Craig's the king of gay humor," Tweek grumbled.

I was the one who barked this time. I never expected to be honored with such a title, especially one of so little value. Since hanging out with him, I guessed I'd gotten pretty good at making fun of homosexuals, but what was I supposed to do with King of Gay Humor? It just made me sound like a bigger asshole than I already was.

"The things you've done to me," I mused, munching on a piece of broccoli. There was a bigger meaning to that statement than Tweek and certainly Thomas would understand. I was sure Tweek had an inkling—of course he did—but even I didn't quite have the whole value of my words figured out.

Honestly, I was still trumped by that near-boner incident.

"You've scarred me for life, s-so shut the hell up." He was grinning though, pushing my fork out of the way every time I tried to take a stab at my greenery.

Peering at him skeptically, I began to drop my fork randomly, shooting for anything I could fit a prong into. When that failed to work, I looked at Thomas and asked, "What did you get?" The golden blonde captured a bit around his fork and held it up to my mouth where I ate it as I had that sample from Tweek moments ago.

Tweek looked to be regretting his decision in keeping me from spearing our shared pasta. "It tastes like a caesar salad," I observed. "Just with noodles and not the lettuce." Thomas made a face and pointed toward the lid of his salad where it was labeled right there: Caesar Pasta.

It was after that when I noticed a sudden change in the day. Before, it seemed as though that had been a test, and now I was in the for the real thing, whatever that was. Thomas started chatting eccentrically with me, and this time I found it weird that Tweek didn't partake in our conversation. It was excusable when he was with Clyde, Token, and I because he was kind of the oddball with us; but with Thomas, _I _should've been the oddball.

Talk came easily and I thought that the golden blonde was charismatic in his own gay, little way. He was one of those people that liked to converse and would talk to himself if he didn't have anyone else to share his gossip with. When he described things, images came to mind quite quickly. Chatting with him was different from doing so with Tweek; I didn't feel like I was learning anything, but it was entertaining all the same. Whereas Tweek was often withdrawn, shy about everything that left his mouth, Thomas had no regrets and no censorship at all. Everything was just him rambling off the top of his head.

And then he started flirting. It wasn't subtle, neither was it over the line.

He wouldn't take his eyes off me. He smiled at everything I said. He laughed even when it wasn't needed. He asked me questions about _me_.

It was all very obvious yet not overbearing in the least. After working at Dixxy's, I knew a flirt when I saw one. Those girls got as much as they could out of you in the short time you waited their table, god damn it. And all the while, Tweek slowly receded further and further into his mind where he tried so hard to appear as though he was still with us.

Dear God, what was up with me and these gay kids? Holy shit, I couldn't get them off of me. The day Butters started flashing me his wiener was going to be the day I got the fuck out of South Park.

It was around the time those thoughts began dawdling throughout my head that Thomas started feeding me regularly—purposefully getting caesar dressing on my nose, that asshole—which was also when Tweek mumbled something about needing to get his iron supplements and snuck away without his best friend even seeming to care. If anything, he was grateful Tweek was finally gone, which I found to be harsh treatment.

I hoped all gay best friends weren't so awful to each other. Tweek was ditching Thomas to spend time with me; Thomas was ignoring Tweek when he left. There was something underlying their actions toward each other, but it felt more complicated than jealousy or an annoyance or a quarrel or I didn't even know what, but I was definitely missing a key piece of information. With one blonde gone, the other perked up in a way that made me feel as though Tweek had been some kind of barrier.

We had been sitting there for a while when I began to feel the absence of that figurative barrier. It wasn't that Thomas had unceremoniously jumped me or that he grabbed my crotch beneath the table. I was noticing that Tweek was gone, had been for some time, and it wasn't the same as when he'd been silent but still _there_. He hadn't been in the best of moods when he'd left, and after half a year, I knew him well enough to know that it was time to find him.

"I think," I started, moving to standing up from the dinky chair, "that I'm going to go find Tweek. He's been gone a while, probably stranded in the middle of a pile of oranges or something and scared out of his mind. I'll be right back." Thomas didn't argue and smiled as I left, waving me off to collect his best friend.

Without an idea of where anything was or where the delicate blonde had gone, without knowing whether he'd lied or not, I backtracked my way through the nuts and chocolate mixtures. I'd go wherever the iron supplements were in case he'd been telling the truth, but where they were located I had no clue. They had to be on the other side of the store where the non-prescription, old lady medication was.

There, I found that there were actually aisles of cereal, chips, and juice as well. All products that were significantly less scary to me. And then as I was coiling my way through the lanes, I found him, standing with his back to me in front of hundreds of bottles of organic medicine.

His slim, dark jeans and tightly buttoned jacket were hugging all of his shapeless, skinny curves and he had to have been standing there the entire time, but he wasn't looking for iron supplements; he'd just needed somewhere to go. Arms bent, he continuously swatted at his face with the flowing limbs of his scarf.

He was crying.

It felt like my stomach was a rock. Or maybe all of my vital organs had turned into gravel. This felt different from the last time I'd witnessed him cry. That time it'd been my fault and I was able to fix it, but when someone cried because of something you didn't do, it wasn't a simple task to patch them up. I couldn't comfort him in the place of whatever of was bothering him, not in a way that would destroy the damage, and I didn't think seeing him like this would disrupt me like it was.

Unaware that I was approaching, I stepped closer, and when his back was against my chest, I wove my arms around his neck, my chin atop his head. He didn't jump, but he grew tense and quickly moved to smear the tears across his cheeks. His breath was labored as he laughed sullenly at himself, sniffling when it got to be too much, and choking back more tears because sometimes laughing made you cry harder. I just stared at the bottles that weren't even related to iron and let him work himself out.

Against my arm, his face was buried, both of his dainty hands strangling my arm. He turned in to my body, shadowing his face between my bicep and chest, shoulders shaking as he attempted to maintain his silence. He was even trying to hold off on sniffling, but then it turned into one giant sniffle that wracked through his entire frame. I dug my fingers into his jacket, squeezing him tightly so he'd be soothed.

"Do you want me to take you home?" I asked, rubbing my palm back and forth across his shoulders, willing to tuck him into bed and get him a fresh cup of coffee without even having to be asked or ordered. I'd gotten rather good at making it—coffee, I mean. And from a machine, that is.

Tweek scoffed, a mixture of laughter and tears, and shook his head. "N-No," he croaked. I had to strain my ears to hear him, and even then he was making it difficult. "I-I want to hang out with you."

But that was kind of hard to do with his best friend for whatever reason.

"Am I allowed to make sure that this isn't because of me?" He nodded this time, and pulled his head back to look up at me.

My stone organs cracked at what I saw.

The color of his eyes was opalescent, a tint of green so pale and pure that I could see the individual flecks of mint and spires of pearl jutting from his pupils. A glossy sheen of tears made them look startling and clean. Their shape was so wide and doe-like, his lashes clumped together and thick with liquid.

His lips were wet and pale, bottom abused and reddened where he must've bitten down harshly. Fresh tracks of tears streaked his cheeks, stripes that shimmered in the light, accentuated the straight line of his animalistic nose, and brought everything back to those goddamn eyes of his. He was staring at me, his unrestrained ogle exposed and harmless. It was like some monstrous, vacant void had stupefied me, caught me and cut me down. His rapt innocence was overwhelming.

I'd never brushed anyone's tears away—I punched Clyde in the face when he cried, spat in Ruby's—and I should've just left Tweek's alone but they were tempting me, yearning for my attention. Cradling the blonde's face with a touch so tender that I was taken aback by my own grace, I watched my hand in curiosity as my thumb stroked the apple of his cheek. The pad of my digit was instantly damp, savoring the physical presence of his sadness. Tweek hiccuped, a soft pop from the back of his throat.

It was adorable.

I was a very careless person and my opinion had no boundaries. If I thought something, I was going to think it, and there would be no existing restrain. I'd been born with a trait where I could do nothing but convey my honest opinion no matter how severe, and maybe that's what Tweek saw in me in that moment because he mimicked me and told me exactly what the problem was, blurting it out like he had no control over his speech. "—I was jealous."

A smirk found its way onto my lips at his superficial worry. But at the same time, I didn't feel as though Tweek would cry at merely being jealous over one particular circumstance that hadn't even been a big deal. So his best friend was a flirt. There had to have been something else to it. He was upset though, and I didn't want to push it. "You have nothing to be jealous of. I like you and Thomas the same. There's no competition."

The distraught, throttled emotion in his too, too clear, much too clear, eyes caused me to realize how that must've sounded, especially to ears as sensitive as Tweek's. He was going to take that the wrong way. I knew he would in his paranoid, fear-wrought mind. He'd _already_ taken it the wrong way.

"You know that came out wrong," I told him, correcting my error. He looked down, lashes and darkened eyelids shielding his demolished gaze. "Hey," I pat his cheek, luring him into looking at me again. "You—" A fresh layer of tears like liquid glass had consumed the blonde's eyes. He tried quickly to blink them away.

I had to remind myself that he was paranoid and most likely needed to take his medication. Thoughts about Thomas yanking my wiener were probably racing through his head. It was important to be patient, but why did he have to think so hard and so much? Why did he have to fucking cry? I needed to ease whatever distress he was feeling so he wouldn't stand in the middle of the aisle again and stare at medication for older women with tears streaming down his face.

"Tweek, dude." He mumbled something about being sorry. "No one has ever gotten this close to me. Well—I mean, Red's got you beat." And at one point in my life I might've received numerous blowjobs and handjobs courtesy of all those parties I used to go to of Kenny's. "But that was wasn't like this. You're more—"

How was I supposed to finished that?

The blonde was staring up at me, awed expression consuming his features again. I smirked and hoped that was a sign that I didn't have to finish speaking. "We should find your friend."

The rest of the day I stayed close to Tweek to make sure he didn't feel overlooked and even pushed the cart with him. He was the little cart pusher, and I was behind him as the big cart pusher. I tasted everything he wanted me to and tried really hard to like it even if it tasted like someone took a shit in my mouth. He showed me how to check for the best heads of broccoli and taught me how to store asparagus correctly, even though I never shopped for broccoli and didn't care if asparagus needed to be stored upright because that was the direction it grew.

He was like a girl. It was vital to pay attention to everything he said and to answer accordingly. I guessed I didn't mind it too much, though. The blonde knew a lot of odd, little facts and liked to throw them out there at random so I was always listening for him to do so. He taught me that eggs had absorbent shells, so storing onions next to them wasn't always the smartest idea because sometimes the eggs tended to absorb the onion stench; I learned that real, fresh ginger and a little bit of milk was equivalent to a hallucinogenic drug. He even pointed across the street where a small pharmaceutical was located and told me that that was where he always ordered his prescriptions.

I think I was getting close to figuring him out.


	20. Chapter 20

I'm currently in the process of re-editing this entire story, huzzah :D Also, I was just told by w0rmsign that this story is "the longest case of blue balls" they've ever had. Best compliment I've ever received.

Feta-Fingers32: Good, good. Craig and Nicki Minaj are my OTP.

Aontut: I'm honored to got gotten your emotions running (: Here's that next chapter you've been waiting ridiculously long for.

dotdotdanii: Craig's POV is always fun to write (:

* * *

><p><em>Let me pick you up.<em>

I had five text messages lined up and that's what every single one of them said. Craig was adamant about hanging out today, but this day in particular just so happened to be the day that I was out shopping with Thomas—something the niorette wouldn't be very interested in. I'd warned him last night that I wouldn't be available for the next twenty-four hours to which he's said, "Challenge accepted." Currently, we were in the midst of an all out war.

_I'm having fun without you. Don't ruin my day,_ I sent back, just now getting snarky when none of former had worked:

_Sorry! I told you last night we couldn't hang out today._

_I'm at the mall so that's a pretty far drive and you don't want to waste gas._

_I can't just leave Thomas here._

_No. I'd rather him not get into a car with you. The wound is still fresh from the last time we all hung out_.

I was beginning to think that he was just trying to annoy me into hanging out with him. His offer was tempting, but I really was having fun.

The last time I'd actually hung out with Thomas in a building that hadn't been school or the coffeehouse had been months ago. I felt like a horrible friend for that alone, but it's just that Craig was taking up all my spare time and vice versa. Supposedly, Clyde hated me again because his best friend was no longer around—again. Thomas wasn't as picky as Clyde, but I felt like our separation was beginning to make him anxious, so of course I had to fix that. The last thing I wanted was for him to be suspicious for any reason.

Phone vibrating, I looked down to see that Craig had sent: _Then try on some of your gay little outfits that you're looking at and send me some pictures so I won't feel like I'm alone ):_

Smiling, I asked him where Clyde and Token were. I returned my phone to my pocket just as Thomas appeared beside me with a couple of shirts thrown across his arm. We were standing in a pit of jeans; they were hanging from the wall, on circular racks, cross racks, stacked on tables, and they all belonged to girls.

"I always hate this part the most," I confessed, idly plucking at the seam of one pair with my fingernails.

Thomas had no shame when shopping for clothes, even in the girl's section whereas I found it incredibly embarrassing and constantly feared that people were going to think I was a transvestite. The fact was that I just liked jeans for girls. In my ever-growing collection of them, there was a mixture for both male and female, but the ones specifically made for chicks just looked _nice_. That's all there was to it. They were _made_ for my gay little legs and they fit so perfectly and I definitely had the thighs for them where some girls just _didn't_.

But it was the initial act of shopping and trying them on that always left me an anxious butterball. Having Thomas there certainly helped, but he couldn't take away my fears entirely. As I sifted through the ones stacked on the table, I continuously glanced back at the golden blonde to make sad faces that made him laugh. He found my terror to be the funniest thing, especially when I had to go into the dressing room—obviously made for girls. I would drag him in with me, but I didn't want any of the employees to think we were buttfucking in their store.

Thomas tapped my shoulder mid-search, informing me that he was going to go look at pair of jeans just a few racks over. When my pleading for him not to leave didn't work, I glared and sent him on his way, nervously taking my phone from my pocket to look like I was busy with a ton of friends rather than searching like a lonely gay fuck through girl's jeans.

Craig had sent a simple _Call me_, to which I quickly did, thankful for the distraction.

"What are you doing?" He asked immediately after picking up.

Rolling my eyes, I placed my phone between my cheek and shoulder and held a pair of pants up at eye-level. Thinking I'd found a winner, I turned them around and saw the sequined butt pockets and put them down forlornly; I didn't want anyone to think I had a golden butthole with those babies.

"Looking at p-pants. It's really scary. Everyone's staring at me even though there's like, no one in the store."

Craig laughed at that, causing me to smile. His tone over the phone was deeper and I found it very attractive.

"So are you going to send me a picture of your butt or something when you finally try something on?" There was an odd chirp hidden beneath his voice and I wondered if he had Stripe running across his chest.

I blushed at his question, not having thought that far ahead. All I knew was that he'd requested a picture. Not of _what_.

"I-I don't know. Probably not, dude. That's embarrassing!" He laughed again and made light kissing noises that told me I'd been right: Stripe was with him.

Bluntly, he said, "You should find a pair that makes your ass look nice."

My cheeks were burning, I could feel it like a fever in face, and my fingers fumbled as I continued to search the clothing racks. "I-Is my butt not good enough as it is?" _Sweet Jesus, that sounds so lewd. Get rid of it!_ "I-I mean, uhm. Do you w-want it to look bigger or something?" _Fuck my life._ Groaning, I scratched my head and waited for Craig's reply.

Instead of the humor I was expecting, he commented simply, "Your butt's fine." _Craig thinks my butt's fine._ I should _not _have been so giddy over that. Dear God no. "I'm talking about shape."

Everything died inside of me. "Is it lopsided?" I asked, and never before had I heard myself speak so seriously.

_That_ got him to laugh. "No, dude. Stop freaking out. I'm just suggesting you get a pair that gives your ass a nice shape. That's all."

Yeah, I got that just fine. But _why_ did I need to give my butt a nice shape? He wasn't alluding to his ulterior motive! If my ass was fucking disgusting, he'd tell me, wouldn't he?

"It's shapeless?"

"Dude!" He exclaimed, laughing briefly. "Stop talking in that tone of voice. It's scaring me."

"Answer the question, Craig." I was wholly prepared to do squats if that was what he was trying to tell me. Shapelessness wasn't going to beat me. I was gay—I knew the tricks of the trade.

"Holy shit, man. Your butt's perfectly fine. I wouldn't grab it if it wasn't, alright?" Whatever forsaken alter ego had taken control of me fled with that single reassurance. My figure deflated from its tense, upright posture and I slumped down behind the racks in an attempt to hide myself from the employees.

"O-okay." Folding the pair I currently held of which just weren't quite right, I set them back down and turned around to investigate the jeans on the wall. Usually the wall ones were good, otherwise they wouldn't be given such a direct place to sit. "So w-where's Clyde and Token?"

"I don't know. Being assholes." Craig made the kissing noises again. "Say hi to Stripe. He misses you and really wants you to come over so you can spend some time with him. Here he is—oh, and he's in a bad mood because you're not here, so be gentle with him." There was a distinct shuffling noise before, from farther away, Craig encouraged, "It's Tweek. Say hello... I know, I hate him too for being such a selfish, dickless fucker. Leaving us to die alone like this. What a prick." His voice came closer to ask, "Did you talk to him?"

"Yep," I lied. "He did sound very upset. Thanks for the warning." The niorette hummed as I found a dark washed pair of jeans that, at first glance, came across as promising. When I picked them up, the feel of the fabric—light yet sturdy—encouraged my selection.

"Did you tell him you love him?" I told Craig yes. "Did you tell him that _I_ love him?" I told Craig yes. "Did you hear him crying because that's what guinea pigs do when they're very sad?" I told Craig yes, scouring through identical pairs of the jeans I liked for one in my size. "Did you promise him you'd see him today?" I told Craig yes and then, "God damn it." His coy laughter was echoing through our connection.

Sighing, I asked, "Are you seriously going to come pick me up?" As he told me that that was exactly what was going to happen, I found the right size and picked them out of the bunch. "Can you at least give me some time? We seriously just got here, dude. I thought you wanted me to find some jeans that'll make my butt shapely."

That one seemed to snag him. "You've got ten minutes and then whatever time it takes for me to get down there. I'm naked and need to put some clothes on, so." He left it at that and he was being completely honest. Craig was a half-nudist, I swear to god.

The thought of him naked, although I had no clue what I expected him to look like, made my pulse stunt. "And you're with Stripe?" There was an affirmative noise from his line. Teasingly, I jibed, "That poor animal."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." The niorette's tone was mocking, smug, and cruel. "I'm surprised Kenny hasn't told you. My penis is fucking godly. You chose the right guy to fuck around with, trust me."

And then he hung up, and I looked down at my jeans, mentally begging them to be the right ones.

* * *

><p>"So who was that on the phone?" Thomas called from the other side of the dressing room. Nervous, I recounted our entire conversation trying to remember if there had been any moments where I'd flirted in an obvious manner or called Craig cute or said I wanted to touch his penis or—What if my best friend had planted a listening device next to the ear piece of my phone? Had he heard everything Craig said to me?<p>

Abruptly terrified, I stopped zipping up the jeans I was trying on and scrabbled for my phone in the pocket of my real pair. I didn't even care if the golden blonde had caught the snippet about my ass. It was the last thing Craig had said to me that was absolutely _never _allowed to reach Thomas. Not even the _very_ last thing—fuck, Thomas could find out the truth for all I cared, but _not_ that Craig supposedly had a phenomenal penis. If that ever happened, then it was all over for me. He'd think he was in love with the niorette or something equally ridiculous!

But then my eye caught the mirror while I stood there, hunkered over my phone.

As I straightened out, my head tipped to the side, and tentatively, slowly, my body turned at an angle. At my reflection, my eyebrows shot up, arching triumphantly. The flicker of a smile fleetingly touched my lips and I called back to Thomas in an idle manner, "It was Craig." My thoughts and vision never left the mirror.

Having gone through numerous quickly-found pairs of jeans and determining only one a mere maybe—but maybe wasn't good enough when I wanted to impress Craig—it seemed to me that this pair, the one I was wearing now, was just what I'd been looking for. My butt didn't look any bigger or smaller, which wasn't what Craig had suggested. It looked...

_It looks tight. _God, I felt raunchy thinking that.

It was at that point that I realized what I'd just done.

_I've been shopping to please Craig._

Suddenly I was airless, weightless, breathless, and I had to lean against the dressing room wall to brace myself. My chest was shakily rising and falling.

_Oh, dear God._

But I was trying to keep an insatiable smile from consuming my face by biting down on my bottom lip. These jeans were _mine_.

Unexplainably excited, so rapid as though shot with adrenaline, I pulled away from the wall and moved to stand before the mirror again, using it this time for a different reason. It was very rare that I ever looked at my body and actually _paid attention _to it, but I'd force myself to stare this time. I had to.

There were the hickeys on my shoulder, the ones that Craig had described as 'like, five' when in reality it was like the whole goddamn expanse of my skin. Looking at them on _me_ instead of having to look down at my arm made me adore them even more. From there I was just like a plank of wood. I didn't have curves or shape or structure. No matter how much Craig liked to tease me about it, I was't _that_ skinny either. Well—I was. But it wasn't gross. Currently I was in the midst of filling out.

My hip bones and collarbones stuck out and I could easily feel my ribs beneath my skin. Tugging on the belt loops of the jeans, a soft blue shade that went well with the creamy color of my skin, I fortified my knowledge that I did not wear grandpa pants. I could sag my jeans as low as I wanted and never have to worry about encountering pubic hair because I didn't have any—or I did, but I got rid of that shit as soon as it started growing. My torso was long, and accentuated how slender my figure was, but in an agile sort of way. Only I wasn't.

_This is unique. _I even examined my nose to see whether I could find Noomi Rapace in there anywhere. After staring at the subtle flatness of it, I decided that I did look a little like an Avatar—_not_ Noomi. Faun sounded cuter though, even though I was pretty sure fauns had big round noses like Tumnus from Narnia. I wasn't going to lie, I'd had a crush on him when the movie first came out.

Sending Craig a telepathic You Where Right trophy, I bent down to retrieve my shirt, and just had my head sticking out of it when Thomas's own peeked underneath the cropped door. I screamed, thoughts about listening devices and Craig-sounded-pretty-damn-sure-his-penis-was-the-shit renouncing throughout my mind. Quickly, although they were already covered, I shoved the arm attached to my hickey-doused shoulder through my shirt's armhole to make sure there was no way he'd see them.

"You didn't answer me so I had to check if you'd died standing up or something," he snickered. I had no clue what he was talking about—I had answered him about who was on the phone—and hurriedly started peeling off the jeans that I swore would be mine. Thomas complimented, "Those look nice". I thought, _I know. Craig's going to know, too._ "So did he or didn't he?"

_Oh, holy fucking shit. He knows. He fucking knows._ "W-What?"

"Oh my god, dude," the golden blonde heaved an exasperated sigh. "Did Craig have a hickey the other day? You—_bitch—_saw it, didn't you? It was _right _there, _right _on his neck."

I didn't know whether to feel an immense wave of relief or allow myself to be washed away by another unshakable round of fear. He hadn't figured it out but he'd be suspicious. Not of me, because I was his best friend and there was no way I'd abuse his trust, but of someone he thought—No. He wouldn't think of anyone other than who I told him it was.

"Oh. Yeah, t-that was a hickey." Slinging my legs through my original pair of jeans so I wouldn't have to look at him as I betrayed him, I lied, "It could've been Kenny. You know he'll do anything if he gets something in return. B-But I think it might've been Red. She was hanging out with Craig j-just before we did."

Red would understand. I'd give her a heads up. And then what? I'd just screwed myself over with that one. She would know that it was _me_ she was covering for and then it would be the same thing as it always was. Once one person found out, _everyone_ did. No one could know about this, and yet I'd just instigated the revelation process all on my own. Thomas would question Kenny, Kenny would question Red, Red would cover for me but she might've told someone already, and then Kenny would find it in himself to figure out who the real culprit was.

He'd be successful, too. He was good at investigating like that.

Grinning that grin of his that was nothing short of flirtatious, Thomas cooed, "So he lets random people give him hickeys?" _I'm not random_, I wanted to growl. "He and Red don't have any special connection, do they?" Sometimes I underestimated my best friend. He was probably turned on by the thought of 'random' hickeys appearing on Craig's body, but he wouldn't think as much if he knew they'd come from me.

"They're actually pretty good friends." And they had sex together, lost their virginities to each other. "He treats her like he does Token." But Thomas wouldn't understand that. He didn't see the way Craig cherished Token like I did, and I was positive that _I_ didn't even see a great portion of their friendship.

Having returned to my clothes, I grabbed the jeans and a sweater I liked, tapped Thomas's head—still on the floor—with my shoe and exited the dressing room. He got up from the ground where I pushed him to leave the dressing area first, that way I could hide behind him and nobody would suspect me as being a tranny, although thinking we'd buttfucked was inevitable I was sure.

"Well," Thomas began once he was purchasing my clothes with my money. I just didn't have the balls to do it myself. "Since we're on the topic of Craig and all..." He smiled at me, taking my bagged clothing, but I didn't like the way it was setting on his face. "Do you think maybe you could lay off with the touching? You know, like, I feel like you guys were extra touchy with each other."

Covering his suspicion up hastily was easy, because for once, I could tell him the truth. "That's just how Craig is. He'll be like that with you, t-too." _Unfortunately._ But then his tone of voice registered in my brain and it occurred to me that he was jealous. Thomas was jealous of _me_.

My best friend who had always been more successful than me in everything, even medically, because Tourettes was fucking awesome and a collection of tics and medication and paranoia _wasn't—_he was jealous and it was all thanks to Craig. The niorette could make the most impossible situations happen in my life. I'd been kissed, I had hickies, all of these feelings that I never thought I'd experience, Thomas was _jealous_. Everything was falling off of Craig and colliding into me and I was trying to catch all of it desperately. I wanted all of it, and Thomas wasn't going to steal anything.

This was mine and I wanted him jealous. "Well, since we're on the topic of Craig and all..." I repeated, smiling skittishly. "He's kind of on his way to pick me up. He uhm—needs help in trigonometry." Which wasn't an absolute lie, but I knew Thomas wouldn't ask to join if math was involved. He'd finished anything and everything that had to do with math his junior year.

"You're really just going to ditch me?" Although he sounded disappointed, I could already tell he was figuring out who he'd call come down to the mall to replace me. It'd probably be Kenny and then I could only guess what would happen. The perverted blonde had a way of sneaking into people's pants and Thomas was one of his favorites to go after because he knew he'd make it. Since finding out how prude I was, he'd given up on me, but my best friend was another case entirely.

The golden blonde liked to say that he wasn't a slut, that he had 'needs'. It was just that all the phone numbers he had on his phone attached to names like Big Dick Seth and Drew In My Pants was a little promiscuous. To think that he wanted _Craig_ to fulfill those needs made me want to stick the niorette into a secluded room with security cameras and only me as a guard because I could only trust myself. "One day you'll have them too, but you're too prude to think they exist right now," Thomas liked to say.

But that wasn't true. I was just waiting, and I could, because I had an iron sense of control over my body. Just not a particularly strong one when it came to Craig.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and announced, "He's here and wants me to get him a smoothie." Glancing around, I took notice that we were headed toward the center of the mall where the food court was located. On the outskirts of the multitude of petite restaurants was a smoothie shack. Thomas and I began heading there in unison.

"Guess I'll just have to invite Kenny over," he sighed, procuring his own phone. "He's not going to be happy having to come all the way down here, Tweek. I want you to know that."

Rolling my eyes, I told him, "Just suck him off. He'll _run_ over here if that's what it takes."

"I do plan on doing that," Thomas snickered.

_Good_, I thought. _You stay with Kenny and just leave Craig to me._ He didn't need someone like Thomas who played around with other guys. I wanted him to want _me_, someone who did _nothing_ with other guys. Craig could trust me. I wanted to trust him, too.

"He's probably one of the sexiest guys in South Park—not gunna lie. Craig, I mean." Did Craig deserve someone who thought he was just a probably? "He doesn't even _try_, you know? That's probably why. It's an effortless attraction."

"You think?" I idly questioned, pondering the smoothie menu rather than what my best friend was saying. Everything that left his mouth made me want to slam his head against the ground. Thinking that I wanted Craig to try something knew, I decided to get him something with pomegranate.

"Definitely. I could drool over how tall he is. Oh wait, I am right now. It's all over the floor. People are going to drown in it." We moved up a place in line and I didn't think it could go any slower. "His hair looks really good all long and dark," _you have me to thank for that_, "and his legs never fucking _end_, my God."

I listened to him talk like that about Craig through the rest of that torturous line, all through another store he dragged me into because it was new, and all the way down to the parking lot. He never once shut up and I had to hear him verbally rape my goddamn crush as he continued on about all of the things that he liked, and they were all of the things that _I_ liked. His hair, his legs, his height, his lopsided smile, his hands, that random whiff of his vanilla and cigarette conjoined aroma. Thomas yacked my fucking head off and all I could think was, _but I like that too_.

In the parking lot we found Craig resting with his chair reclined, arms over his face to block out the dimming light. I wanted to ponder on how nice he looked with his torso stretched out like it was, but I couldn't manage to formulate any sensible thoughts because all I could stare at was the elongated expanse of his bare chest. He was wearing a flannel, but it wasn't buttoned, and the way he had his arms raised caused the sides of his shirt to slip away from his flesh.

His ribcage was prominent when he inhaled, and his skin was so pale in the dusty light that his happy trail had collected shadows, standing out stark. Staring enraptured, I couldn't understand how _that_ had been what my own had pressed against the other night. I felt like I'd been cheated because those stupid lights had been off the entire time. _This _was what my eyes had missed? _Fuck._

From behind me came, "Someone's looking fuckable today, aren't they?"

Jolting, a shriek flew from my mouth, cut off unexpectedly as I threw my hand across my lips and elbowed Kenny in the ribs with the other. Even as he keeled over, he was laughing. In his car, Craig spread his elbows to glance through them and out the window. Thomas waved sweetly and I wanted to bite his fingers off.

Sitting up, Craig rolled his window down just a touch and requested his smoothie through the slot. Glaring at his antic, I slid it through and asked Kenny, "How the h-hell did you get down here so fast, dude?"

"I was over at Tyler's house," he explained, collecting me against his chest where he attacked my hair with fingers. "It's literally just down the street." I tried to swat him away but he was vehement, knocking my head around between his hands like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

"Your drug dealer?" Craig asked, having rolled his window down the rest of the way.

So Kenny was on drugs. That explained everything. "Yes sir," he answered, smiling against the back of my head. "Gunna party soon and you're all invited."

"You might not want to extend that privilege to Tweek," Thomas warned. I rolled my eyes as though he were exaggerating the circumstance, but it was true.

"Why's that?" Craig asked, smirking. I was positive he'd formulated a multitude of reasons in his head. All of them must've been ridiculously enthusing for his eyes were glinting like sparkling, frothy lakes. I wondered if he was pondering the right one.

"Tweek's a _belligerent_ drunk," Kenny answered.

Quickly cutting in I said, "I'm not _belligerent_."

But Thomas was agreeing, saying, "He drinks until he can't stand and then he starts screaming, wrecks houses, and if your playing beer pong, he kicks you out and takes your spot. He throws up wherever the fuck he feels like it, too."

Craig's smile was a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

The farthest I got in my attempt to redeem my drunken self was, "I don't—"

Kenny cut me off with: "He has an array of emotional responses too. One time he cried all night and passed out holding my bed post. Another time he got so angry we had to lock him in the bathroom where he talked to himself all night and cleaned the shit out of my bathtub. And then the next morning he'll remember absolutely _nothing_."

"D-Don't forget how fun I am!" They were only mentioning the embarrassing parts. I didn't want Craig to think I couldn't be a belligerently _fun_ drunk. "Like that t-time I got everyone to play that card game where you s-stick it to your forehead. Everyone loved that game!"

Thomas and Kenny told Craig to ignore me and he did just so, slurping his smoothie amusedly. "Okay, then!" Pushing and ducking out of Kenny's embrace, I said, "Looks like it's time to go."

Saying bye to Thomas had been the hardest, because while he was whispering vulgar things about Craig into my ear, I was trying so hard not to let him see the variety of emotions I couldn't manage to rein in on my face. All at the same time I wanted to cover my best friend's eyes, jump that ridiculously good-looking man in his car, punch him for teasing me purposefully, punch him again for unconsciously encouraging Thomas, and I couldn't seem to control myself so I quickly stowed away inside Craig's car, refusing to watch as Thomas made him get out so they could hug.

I returned Craig's smoothie when he got back in, and as he started slurping, he spoke around the straw and a mouthful of purple. "What's going on between you and Thomas?"

_If I told you, then I don't know what would happen. You might switch me out for him._

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about him." Leaning toward the niorette, I reached out and daintily plucked open the neck of his flannel. As the hickey was revealed, I said, "I might've t-told Thomas that Red gave you that."

"She did," Craig admitted with a wink. "That scandalous whore."

My smile was appreciative. Perhaps the worst wasn't about to happen.

* * *

><p>adfa<p> 


	21. Chapter 21

In the parking lot we found Craig resting with his chair reclined, arms over his face to block out the dimming light. I wanted to ponder on how nice he looked with his torso stretched out like it was, but I couldn't manage to formulate any sensible thoughts because all I could stare at was the elongated expanse of his bare chest. He was wearing a flannel, but it wasn't buttoned, and the way he had his arms raised caused the sides of his shirt to slip away from his flesh.

His ribcage was prominent when he inhaled, and his skin was so pale in the dusty light that his happy trail had collected shadows, standing out stark. Staring enraptured, I couldn't understand how _that_ had been what my own had pressed against the other night. I felt like I'd been cheated because those stupid lights had been off the entire time. _This _was what my eyes had missed. _Fuck._

From behind me came, "Someone's looking fuckable today, aren't they?"

Jolting, a shriek flew from my mouth, cut off unexpectedly as I threw my hand across my lips and elbowed Kenny in the ribs with the other. Even as he keeled over, he was laughing. In his car, Craig spread his elbows to glance through them and out the window. Thomas waved sweetly and I wanted to bite his fingers off.

Sitting up, Craig rolled his window down just a touch and requested his smoothie through the slot. Glaring at his antic, I slid it through and asked Kenny, "How the h-hell did you get down here so fast, dude?"

"I was over at Scoot's house," he explained, collecting me against his chest where he attacked my hair with fingers. "It's literally just down the street." I tried to swat him away but he was insistent, knocking my head around between his hands like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

"Your drug dealer?" Craig asked, having rolled his window down the rest of the way.

So Kenny was on drugs. That explained everything. "Yes sir," he answered, smiling against the back of my head. "Gunna party soon and you're all invited."

"You might not want to extend that privilege to Tweek," Thomas warned. I rolled my eyes as though he were exaggerating the circumstance, but it was true.

"Why's that?" Craig asked, smirking. I was positive he'd formulated a multitude of reasons in his head. All of them must've been ridiculously enthusing for his eyes were glinting like sparkling, frothy lakes. I wondered if he was pondering the right one.

"Tweek's a belligerent drunk," Kenny answered.

Quickly cutting in, I said, "I'm not _belligerent_."

But Thomas was in agreement with Kenny. Craig's smile was a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

The farthest I got in my attempt to redeem my drunken self was "I don't—"

Kenny cut me off with: "He has an array of emotional responses too. One time he cried all night and passed out holding my bed post. Another time he got so angry we had to lock him in the bathroom where he talked to himself all night and cleaned the shit out of my bathtub. And then the next morning he remembered absolutely nothing."

"D-Don't forget how fun I am!" They were only mentioning the embarrassing parts. I didn't want Craig to think I couldn't be a belligerently _fun_ drunk. "Like that t-time I got everyone to play that card game where you s-stick it to your forehead. Everybody loved that game!"

Thomas and Kenny told Craig to ignore me and he did just so, slurping his smoothie amusedly. "Okay, then." Pushing and ducking out of Kenny's embrace, I said, "Looks like it's time to go."

Saying bye to Thomas had been the hardest, because while he was whispering vulgar things about Craig into my ear, I was trying so hard not to let him see the variety of emotions I couldn't manage to rein in on my face. All at the same time I wanted to cover my best friend's eyes, jump that ridiculously good-looking man in his car, punch him for teasing me purposefully, punch him again for unconsciously encouraging Thomas, and I couldn't seem to control myself so I quickly stowed away into Craig's car, refusing to watch as Thomas made him get out so that they could hug.

I returned Craig's smoothie when he got back in, and as he started slurping, he spoke around the straw and a mouthful of purple. "What's going on between you and Thomas?"

_If I told you, then I don't know what would happen. You might switch me out for him. _"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about him." Leaning toward Craig, I reached out and daintily plucked open the neck of his flannel. As the hickey was revealed, I said, "I might've t-told Thomas that Red gave you that."

"She did," Craig admitted with a wink. "That scandalous whore."

My smile was appreciative. Perhaps the worst wasn't about to happen.

* * *

><p>Craig spent the entire ride back to his house trying to scare me by speeding through yellow lights, making random U turns, nearly getting us lost, and even succeeded in fucking with Stan and Kyle at the Burger King drive-through. At one point he tried to get me to agree to let him run a red light so he could make a stupid face when the camera got him.<p>

He got angry when I wouldn't let him.

When we arrived at his house, he warned, "Ruby has a couple of her friends over. They've been hoarding in the living room and kitchen. I'm not sure if we'll make it up to my room." Getting out in unison, we made it around the front of his car where he added, "I had to tear one of their heads off as I left. There might still be blood on the floor."

"You're a nerd. You know that, right?" I snorted, following him up the steps toward the front door. It was strange how familiar his house was to me. I could show up and open the door without having to knock now, not that I ever did.

"Your friend is going to get fucked. You know that, right?" We slipped inside to which I was ashamed to admit that I looked on the floor just in case there was literally some blood.

Nodding, I said, "That's his plan."

"Does he have sex with Kenny often?" Craig asked, looking over his shoulder before we reached the kitchen. I nodded my head a second time. "And you just never felt up for a round with him? Or Thomas?" That first question was reasonable, something that I could accept just fine. It was the second that caught me off guard and had me staring incredulously at the the niorette as he opened the freezer to retrieve a half empty bottle of vodka. "Can't trust my sister," he explained in short.

"And I suppose you're going to tell me that you and Clyde frequent each other's beds, also?" A joke. That's all I meant it as, but the way Craig smirked. . . I just—what?

He started off toward the stairs leading to his room, calling out something about the rest is yours. "W-Wait!" I called, hurrying after him, practically chomping down on his heels and completely missing the group of ease dropping girls loitering around the living room. Their eyes followed us but I didn't even notice. "What was that smirk supposed to mean, dude?"

There was no answer until we got inside his room, and by then, my impatience was unbelievably thin. Twisting off the lid, he said, "Clyde and I have had some pretty close encounters. That's all." He started laughing at my hanging jaw, bringing the bottle to his lips as he did so. I imagined the vile taste of the alcohol and internally winced when he swallowed without a chaser.

"Close encounters?" I repeated, expecting an explanation. He offered me a sip; I shook my head.

"Yeah, dude. Sometimes when we're drunk or on drugs it just happens. For being 'straight', Clyde's—" My eyes bulged and I quickly covered my ears, screaming to effectively block out whatever Craig was about to spill. His laughter turned into an obnoxious torrent. "Jealous?" He asked when my hands eventually dropped.

"God, no." It was impossible for me to ever be jealous of Clyde or Token. They had their place with Craig and that was that. "I'm. . ." A word wasn't coming fast enough. Brushing my hair from my forehead I said, "I have no idea. This is so _weird_." I had to spin around in an attempt to even myself out, and by then, Craig had found a seat on his bed. "I would never touch Thomas. Kissing him would be one thing but—what did you say? For being straight, Clyde's what?"

He grinned at me. "Are you sure you're ready to hear this?" My pointed stare only inspired his stubbornness. By that point I wished I'd just listened the first time. "I don't want to scare you off or anything." Dropping the bag in my hand for emphasis to reassure him that I wasn't going anywhere, I motioned for him to get on with it. After another healthy swig of vodka, he said to me, "His mouth. Clyde's good with his mouth."

"No way!" I cried, throwing myself onto his bed as dramatic as I felt. "He gave you a _blow job_?"

"Multiple times," Craig confessed, speaking as though he were dismayed. Well I had some fucking news for him._ I_ was dismayed. This was the strangest news of a lifetime.

"I c-can't believe this."

Craig shrugged, much too nonchalant. "I think he was just trying to practice that way he'd be able to impress Stoley."

"But you let him."

"I did," he agreed. "I'd let anyone, really. Kenny has. Red did before we attempted sex. It's just a matter of whether you're attractive or not." I was staring at him over the arm I had covering my face, utterly unsure of where I was supposed to go with my reaction. Another chug later and he was grinning at me. "Even you."

Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes and looked away, but there was a feverish blush coating my cheeks giving everything away. "I've never had anyone's dick anywhere near my mouth."

With a wink, Craig offered a short, "How about you start with mine?"

"Are you drunk?" I asked him. Because this wasn't funny. It was making me nervous and perhaps I should've taken that shot of vodka when I'd had the chance.

"Not yet," he laughed, but his tone was ringing and he was leaning back on his arm, letting his head loll back and his hair fall. If this was Craig when he was what? Tipsy? Buzzed? Then how would this escalate when he _was_ drunk? "Why? Do you want me to be?"

"I'm curious," I admitted, watching as he lifted the bottle to his mouth again. He brought it back down, angling it toward my butt as thought my ass were a cup coaster.

"I'm not belligerent, I can tell you that."

Deciding not to play into his game, I asked instead, "Do you always randomly grab the vodka and start drinking?"

"Pretty much," he fibbed. "Ruby and her friends are throwing a little party, so I gave them the beer and took this" —he held up the alcohol only to take another sip from it— "that way nobody'll be throwing up all over the place. Nobody wants to drink it with me, though." Pouting, Craig dropped against the bed. He turned his head toward me so I could see his entire mask of sadness.

"Yeah, and it's going to stay that way." The corners of his shapely lips plunged lower. "I don't want you to see me belligerent." I hadn't thought of myself as a terrible drunk, but if the stories were true, then that was the last state of mind I wanted Craig to see me in. Actually—second to last. The very last would be me during an episode.

"I told you that my wiener's been in Clyde's mouth. At least take one sip." My brows rose in consideration. "One sip for every secret."

"Nope." Secrets of Craig's were tempting, but not at my expense. He was _never_ going to see me intoxicated. I feared that if the occasion arose, the next mouth his wiener was going into would be mine.

"Alright." His mouth turned into a scowl. "It's cool. I've got a ton of juicy secrets but I guess you just don't care enough to listen."

I burrowed my head into his pillows, smelling Craig and nothing more. He shuffled around a bit, clearly leaving the bed where his presence was absent for a few suspicious minutes. Just when I wasn't about to wait any longer, a soft noise began to pilfer throughout the room.

We'd only listened to his record player a few times, usually when Craig was feeling particularly somber. I caught onto the song quite quickly, recognizing it as one of the more popular female artists of that era. Stevie Nicks was probably the equivalent of a drunken pleasure to him.

He came back then, rolling over me to get to the other side of his bed where there was more space for him to sprawl out. His shirt had twisted around his body to make it look like his flannel was cropped. I tried not to be obvious when I stared at his waist, but it was hard with his hipbones jutting out, his jeans sagging. As though he were agitated, he shifted around a bit. His back didn't do it for him, but neither did sitting up; he flopped back down and rolled over, half laying on top of me, but that was okay because his weight was steady and comfortable. Our foreheads were tucked close together and I could smell the corrupted stench of alcohol on his breath.

"Where did your smoothie go?" I asked, seeing as I paid five dollars for it. One of my hands squirmed around until it could reach the niorette's face. My fingers traced his jawline, missing the stubble that would be there every now and then. He shrugged, eyes closed, lashes kissing the apples of his cheeks. Gingerly, I ran my thumb across his skin, the skin that I've never seen blush. A hum simmered from between his lips and, encouraged, my hand sidled into his thick mane of dark hair. As my digits began to knead his scalp in the way I knew he liked, his eyes blinked open to look into mine but an inch away. They always managed to retain a startling variation of translucent blues. I adored them for their intensity even though they made me nervous.

A smile worked its way onto my face, reaching my eyes where I felt them begin to glisten. This was just _awesome_. Like, laying with Craig for no reason—I liked it so much. His eyes dropped toward my mouth, and it was kind of embarrassing how I was just grinning like a huge dork, but I had no ability to stop it and it wouldn't go away. For a moment his lips twitched upward. "Did I ever say thank you for getting it for me?" He asked, inclining his chin to brush our lips together. My smile faltered, giving me enough leeway to return his kiss before springing back into place.

Distracted by his mouth, I murmured "I don't think so," and let my hand slide down to rest against his throat. I was pretty much humiliated when I noticed that his pulse was evened out, beating regularly against my fingertips, while mine was speeding up in steady increments the closer Craig's lips got to my own. He was mumbling his thanks as he reconnected our mouths, gently molding them together.

We laid like that for a while. Not kissing, but resting. Or maybe he was just resting and_ I_ was observing. Sometimes he took these irregularly deep breaths that I thought of as bear sighs. When he let them out, his breath fanned out against my face and pushed my hair back. His nose liked to crinkle, and every time it did, I'd wiggle my own against the tip of his. I don't think he understood what I was doing because whenever it happened, he'd knit his brows together or push air between his lips to make this odd semblance of a noise. His vision then began to dance across my features, seemingly looking at anything and everything.

That was when he started to get goofy. He had one hand poised at the back of my head where he twirled locks of my hair around his fingers, practically grooming in tangles. Small chuckles would escape his mouth, and every time I asked what was funny, he'd kiss my forehead and say to me, "You should've taken me up on my offer. These secrets of mine are hilarious." I'd continue to ask just so I could get the kiss. At one point he even put a section of my hair into his mouth so he could tie a wet knot with it, explaining that it was payback for tying that cherry stem with my tongue.

I was disgusted.

"Craig—" He took my mouth in his, swallowing my dissent with plush lips and an impatient tongue.

After living through another moment with him and Thomas interacting, I felt the need to reenforce my status with him. My mouth encompassed his wet appendage and I hoped my best friend had fun fucking Kenny while I laid in Craig's room touching tongues.

Pulling back a sparse inch, he recollected, voice thick, "So you came in with a bag."

My pulse jogged and the same excited mischievousness I'd felt when admitting my crush to him harnessed me once again. "I did."

"And..." Craig murmured, inclining his chin to rub out lips together. "Did you get some new jeans?"

"Yes," I said, heart thudding so deeply it echoed throughout my chest.

A flash sizzled through his eyes, drawing me in. "Are you going to show me?"

Biting my tongue, a blush on my cheeks, I shrugged my shoulders as best I could laying down while curled up next to him. "It's not like they're t-that great," I fibbed.

"Put them on and I'll tell you whether they are or not," he instructed, speaking smoothly. I wondered if he was catching onto my anxiety and attempting to quell it.

What I wanted to do was object. I wanted to go home and take my medication and forget I ever bought a stupid pair of jeans that I thought Craig would like. But then I thought about Thomas and his excessive amount of self-confidence. I thought about how he'd talked about Craig today and how he still believed he was getting somewhere. I thought about his jealousy and my jealousy and decided that it was time for some of the envy stemming from me to change.

So with a vigorous nod, I removed myself from his bed and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible when I grabbed the bag by the door and locked myself away in the bathroom. It was there that my nerves unleashed themselves, part unconquerable fear part incomprehensible excitement. I quickly did away with my jeans and, after the fastest yet most important deliberation of my life, decided to go commando. _You need to do better than Thomas. You need to do better than Thomas._ That was the only thing going through my head as I zipped and buttoned my new jeans.

As though I'd wasted time and had to exit as quickly as possible to make up for lost seconds, my hand shot toward the doorknob only to freeze just before reaching it. My reflection had caught my attention again and a string of curses sounded throughout my mind. Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and tossed the article over my head. Craig would like seeing my marred shoulder. Maybe if these jeans were actually a huge failure, the hickeys would take his attention away. I would've folded my shirt and placed it on the counter, but I thought leaving it inside-out and haphazard on the floor helped whatever persona I was trying to go for. Leaving it like that—it was pitiful, but it made me feel a little more wild. It made exiting the bathroom a little easier.

At the sound of the door, Craig rolled around and sat up. Our eyes connected, and the look in them said to me that he wasn't completely there. He was drunk and his gaze was lowering. I could practically feel it slide over me as though it had a physical substance, a pressure of sorts that made my nerve endings fidget. My breath was shallow, nearly heaving when somewhere behind the blue intensity of his eyes they began to spark like flint struck by steel. I had no recollection of a time where he'd come to life like this before, but it made me antsy in the most enticing way. And when this imaginary presence of his scanned my legs—oh, I did not want to feel the pressure of it below my waist.

"Turn around," he suggested, or maybe it was an order._ You need to do better than Thomas._ Either way, my skin prickled and I did as he said, so in tune to him that I knew when he'd left the bed without even having to look. His chest brushed against my back, the textures of both his skin and shirt tickling me for a brief moment before growing firm when he drew me against him, hands on my hips. He was warm as though the alcohol in his body had started a fire. "Do you want to know what I think?" His question was fanned out across my shoulder, the one that I'd done a good job of showing off.

Before his lips could touch me, he spun me around. It happened so fast that I wondered if I'd had my back to him at all. Looking up, I saw that his vision was flickering, cast toward the hickies. I didn't think I'd be able to procure a noise, so I nodded instead. At the movement of my head, Craig's eyes drifted toward mine. In unison, his hands coiled around my back where they lowered, sliding steadily down to my rear. My own made to grasp his biceps. "You did," the niorette mused, clenching his fingers so unabashedly that I had to stifle a gasp with my tongue, "a _fabulous_ job."

That asshole said the word "fabulous" with a lisp.


	22. Chapter 22

Whoo, girl. It's been a while.

But today is my birthday and also an opportune moment to surprise you all with an update :D

I haven't answered any reviews yet, but I certainly will!

vanillafantasy, though: I've been sitting here for my entire life with 299 reviews just hoping to reach 300 by the time my birthday came. I didn't think it was going to happen. And I was partially okay with that. But then you fucking reviewed. The day right before my fucking birthday. So now on my birthday, I am at 300 reviews. Thank you. Thank you for unknowingly doing this. THANK YOU.

* * *

><p>I got the strangest call that Saturday at three o'clock in the morning. It was from Kenny, and he sounded drunk, but he asked politely: "Could you do me a favor, man?" Someone was screaming in the background loud enough that I could hear something about why the alcohol was gone. There was some shuffling, some banging, a door shutting, and then there was only Kenny's voice.<p>

Rubbing at my eyes as though it'd help my tired brain, I sat up with a feeling that his request was going to require me to leave my house. "Sure, dude," I garbled, stretching an arm and one elbow above my head for that blasted surge of pleasure which unproductively sent me right back into a slumbering position.

"Tweek's wasted and I need you to come get him."

"Oh?" Our conversation was floating now. This was definitely a dream. "Stripe just grew into a giant guinea pirate. Want to switch?"

The sound of the door opening repeated and from far away I heard Kenny calling out for Tweek. He was willing to prove to me that Tweek was currently partying at his house. I sat up again, intrigued. There was more screaming from the same voice as before and I realized that it was the petite blonde's. _Oh, wow. _He must've been close because Kenny said that I was on the phone, and immediately his voice grew near, slurred and practically incoherent.

"_Craig_," he cooed excitedly. I imagined him slipping into the room where Kenny was and sliding down the wall, phone pressed tightly against his ear with both hands. "Hi, Craig. _Hi_, _hello_. I miss you lots. You're so _cute_. What are you doing?" He was giggling and Kenny was laughing. I supposed that he was probably sitting next to Tweek with a very accurate idea of exactly what was going on between the two of us.

Tweek had completely blown it. That was okay, though. Kenny could be the exception.

"I miss you too," I told him, knowing that if he was as belligerent as he sounded then I'd have to sweet talk him into this one. He made an _awh_ sound, giggling again in that drunken sort of way, telling Kenny what I'd said. "Tweek." The dainty blonde came back to the phone, humming repeatedly a tangled string of unknown tunes. "I'm going to come get you, alright?"

When he gasped, it held all of the intoxicated wonderment of the world. "Are you going to party with me?"

Already throwing on some jeans, I felt for my keys in the back of my pocket and then began to head out the door. The stairs felt like clouds. I wasn't nearly awake enough for this. "No, we're going to come back to my place and go to sleep, alright?"

"But I'm having fun!" I could see his dazed eyes and pout in my head. "Kenny, Craig doesn't want me to have any fun." His voice broke, signaling that he was _definitely_ partied out if he was going to start crying. Kenny was trying to reassure him, but the blonde hiccuped and told him to shut up with an unforgiving attitude. If he'd been like that for a majority of the night, then I understood why Kenny had called.

"I want you to have fun," I assured him. "We're going to have fun, Tweek." He stopped sniffling, perking up at the idea of having fun with me apparently. "We're going to party at my house, okay?" In my imagined version of him, he was nodding his head vigorously. He must've gotten too dedicated about agreeing wholeheartedly with me because it sounded suddenly as though he lost balance and ran himself into a wall. Kenny was in hysterics with laughter.

Downstairs, the light was on in the kitchen. As I was passing by, I saw Ruby digging through the fridge with one of her little friends ransacking the pantry. "Where are you going?" She asked, watching me stride through the room. I contritely told her that Tweek was wasted and promptly left the house.

The cold hurt my nude torso and inside of my car it was even worse because the chill was stagnant. "I'm on my way, alright?" I informed Tweek through our connection, backing out of my driveway. "Do you want to stay on the phone until I get you?"

"Yeah!" He exclaimed, immediately telling Kenny, "Craig's going to stay on the _phone_ with me! He's so sweet. He's so sweet, Kenny, you have no idea. I like him so much. I like you so much, Craig." Kenny was still laughing, harder now, probably drunk off his ass all the same. "It's okay if you don't like me back. It's okay, really. Just as long as you don't think I'm ugly, I'm okay with whatever. I really am, Craig. Craig, are you still on the phone? Please don't hang up on me."

"I'm still here, Tweek." God, he sure knew how to be a fucking sweetheart. There was this apparent level of vulnerability to him, more so when he was drunk than ever. "And I don't think you're ugly." He chirped that he knew, that I thought he was unique. "You are," I said, idly annoyed that I was stopped at a red light. A red light in the middle of the night when no cars were around. I ran it. "You're even better than that, okay? I think you're very pretty."

Tweek hummed delightedly, proclaiming that I was pretty as well. That even though I was a werewolf, he still liked me anyways. It was a strange tidbit that I figured was just some brainless slur. As he continued to say some of these things, I wondered how embarrassed he was going to be tomorrow or if he would even remember. Kenny would certainly remind him, if not me. He was rambling on about anything he could, saying things I hadn't even been aware that he was thinking, talking about me like there wasn't anybody on the other line. I was, though. Listening while completely sober, completely cognizant, and retaining everything that could be deduced from his intoxicated slur.

There came some rustling and what sounded like the phone dropping. I pictured the blonde rolling around on the floor mindlessly. His voice returned eventually asking, "Craig, when you get here, can I kiss you? Like, can you come up to this room? Because Thomas can't see. He can't _know. _Like, he can't—but I want to kiss you."

"That's not a good idea, Tweekers. We can wait outside and you'll see Craig then," Kenny explained from the muted silence in the background. His rejection negatively riled up the other who whimpered as though the situation were unfair. "If he comes inside, Thomas will see. He won't know if Craig stays outside, okay? Now let me pick you up. You can't walk."

The wasted blonde giggled, insisting in a classically drunk way that he could walk just fine. In fact, he thought sometimes the alcohol cured him! He didn't stutter as much and his jitters became unlikely_—_Yeah, he was wasted.

"Listen to Kenny, Coffee Bean." He mumbled something about loving that nickname and not because it was just genuinely cute but because it'd come from me. "You can kiss me all you want, alright? Thomas won't find out," I confirmed, allowing him special privileges because he was drunk. I was treating him the same way I did my family when they were sick. And Clyde, sick or not sick. I knew how to baby people, how to take care of them, and I was fucking good at it. No cold fucked with my family. No alcohol was going to fuck with Tweek, either.

Rounding a corner, I started down Kenny's street and saw a few cars parked outside his house. His place was the only one with the lights still on, and shadows cast by the drunks inside were shifting across the window curtains, melding and transforming and separating. I couldn't hear any music but I was positive that it was playing somewhere inside.

As I attempted to tell him that I was here, the blonde interjected me and screamed ecstatically that "Craig is _here—_he's _here_ here, like right outside" to Kenny.

At the same time I listened to his exclamation, the front door opened and music pilfered out through the ajar threshold. It quieted immediately once the more stable of the two closed the door. I ended the call and watched in amusement as the two waded into the cold without much balance to each other or their feet.

I kept my car running with my keys in the ignition and popped open the passenger door to make this predicament easier. We met half way where I thought _This is it_, remarkably so. Kenny was looking at me with expectancy and I was staring back at him with an answer. Tweek and I had kept our odd secret from him for six months. It was an honorable feeling to know that he hadn't been informed for such a long time, that I was a part of his investigation and the only reason he'd found out was because Tweek had drunkenly admitted to it. I felt powerful for all of a mere moment before Tweek latched himself onto my body.

There was no warning or split-second moment to expand on what was going to happen, just the petite blonde's arms around my neck and his face rubbing ungracefully against my throat, rocky motions that were most likely uncontrollable. His skin was hot with an inebriated glow, and he shifted his hand to find purchase against my shoulder were he must've noticed that I wasn't wearing anything but jeans. My bare skin was an instant catalyst and he moved quickly, grabbing my jaw to direct our mouths into a haphazard kiss.

The movement of his lips was random and offbeat, not corresponding to my own, but he was drunk and thought nothing of it. I actually found it quite humorous, the way his teeth nipped too hard and his tongue didn't know where to go or what to do, reacting merely on thoughtless impulse. It was cute. I couldn't keep the smirk from entering our kiss at the way he wouldn't let me lure our mouths into a more seamless motion.

"Dude," Kenny laughed. "You're not in the safe zone, yet." But Tweek refused to listen, stepping on my feet to lessen our proximity. "He was _not_ like this before you came around, Craig. I hope you're aware of that."

"_Mhmm_," I acknowledged, turning my head to remove my mouth from his. My rejection didn't deter the blonde as he began peppering my jaw with sloppy kisses. In an attempt to step closer, he found no purchase against my legs, and slipped.

Faster than I could react, Tweek was on his butt and in the snow, giggling giddily as he rolled around, most likely unable to do anything more than that. He certainly couldn't stand. "_Craig_," he crowed, burrowing his arms into the snow, satisfied when they were completely covered. "It's c-cold!"

"That's because you just stuck your arms into the snow, Tweek." Bending down, I grabbed his limbs out from his frozen blanket and hauled him to his feet. His body was nothing but limp, dead weight like a one hundred pound noodle. Anywhere I placed him, he flopped back around until he was falling down again. "Alright, dude. Stiffen up a bit."

Behind me, Kenny started snickering. Tweek mimicked the sound shortly after. "But we're not in the safe zone yet, _Craig_," he giggled, hiccuping in my arms as he made a full body roll into my chest.

I didn't blame the other blonde for handing over this one. He was definitely going to be a handful tonight.

My expectations were proven right when, as I explained to him that we were going to my car, he screamed at me and plugged my nose. There was absolutely no rationality to this, although Kenny, significantly far from sober, cracked up like he understood this drunken sign language exceptionally well.

After that, Tweek pulled away from me and began wobbling toward my car in the only way he knew how to get there successfully and it was by chanting "I" and "like" every step, followed by pointing at me when he took another and declared "you." He did that all the way to my car where he transitioned to whimpering about the temperature again.

To alleviate himself, he tugged his sweater over his head and lost his balance, nose diving back into the snow. The blonde crawled to the open door of the vehicle while laughing hysterically because _Kenny_ was laughing, the traitorous bastard. Having watched Tweek for that short amount of time, I already regretted taking him off Kenny's hands.

The more coherent of the two blondes was currently toppled over, balancing against my side as he heaved in a fit of unconquerable laughter. He was crying something about how hilarious the other boy was, beating at his knee for emphasis. His emotion was so honest that I couldn't keep from smiling, a hand across my eyes to contain these feelings.

"It's great," he wheezed, straightening out before falling into another explosion of laughter. He was pointing a finger at my car. I could honestly say that I was a little bit scared of what I'd see, and when it turned out to be nothing, I automatically figured that Kenny was just as wasted as Tweek.

And then I realized that there was _nothing_ there. Tweek was gone.

"He disappeared!" Kenny laughed, slapping me in the chest instead of his abused leg. _What...the fuck._ "He was there—then gone!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I told him, heading toward my car.

"It was the seat!" He choked out, following. "Tweek was sitting in the seat, pulled the seat lever, and he fell backwards and disappeared! He looked so surprised, dude. Oh my god—he didn't know what was happening."

The only thing I could think was _Somebody help me._ These two were fucking idiots, and as I approached my car, I saw that Tweek was gasping with laughter as well, situated all crookedlike in his newly reclined seat. _Please.  
><em>

"Are you coming with us?" I asked Kenny, motioning him into the back when he wholly agreed. Tweek clapped his hands together as I realigned his seat, his equilibrium now completely shot. He reached out and combed his fingers through my hair which made buckling him in difficult.

As I tried to leave, he grabbed onto my head and roughly kissed my mouth. His body strained against the thick fabric tying him down. Smiling against my lips, he asked, "You care?" His voice was small and sweet, even with the alcohol contorting his breath. I figured he was talking about how I'd buckled him in, nodding my head so I could use it as an excuse to pull away.

"Of course I care. Especially when you're drunk and I get to be your guardian at three in the morning." Making sure his fingers weren't anywhere near the door, I shut it and made my way back to the other side of my car. I glanced at him as I ducked into my seat to see him smiling dumbly, completely out of it, and right at me. It would've been creepy had be not been so drunk. Backing out, I started home.

"How much do you care?" He asked, almost fully turned so he could stare at me head-on. He was shivering, obviously not himself or even human for that matter, because he continued to sit there as though nothing were wrong.

"I care a lot," I said, humoring his question. And then I waited for a red light before I leaned over and turned all the air vents toward him so he could warm up.

Humming appreciatively, he rephrased his inquiry. "How much is a lot?"

"A lot," I mused, rapping my fingers against the steering wheel. Tweek was putting me under a little bit of pressure, ogling at me with wide eyes and a gullible mind. He was incredibly fragile, drunk as he was. I had to be careful with my answer. "Remember when you said that you'd be disappointed if we stopped kissing?" The blonde nodded quickly, eyes slipping out of focus for a moment. "So would I."

As though he could lessen its brilliance, Tweek bit his lip when he smiled, a look of which I happened to catch when I glanced over at him before returning my eyes to the road. From next to me, Kenny's head popped up. "Damn, Craig. What has my little Tweek done to you? You're so _adorable_," he crooned.

Tweek immediately commented on that. "I know, right?" Their talk made no sense. Mellowing his stare into one of fondness, he added, "He has his moments." It was strange how proud he seemed. Nobody should've underestimated my ability to be cute since obviously I was goddamn good at it.

"Tweek's been working me pretty hard over the last couple of months," I said.

"Months?" Kenny echoed.

_We hid it quite nicely, didn't we, Kenny?_ I thought smugly, turning into my driveway.

"_Six_ months," Tweek clarified, cherishing the number.

The instant my car came to a stop, the belligerent blonde was tumbling out and into the snow, sweater forgotten on the floor. He started laughing a notch too loud, rolling toward my house when he realized he couldn't walk. I intended to slap a hand over his mouth as I quickly removed my keys, idly listening to Kenny when he sniggered, "He's been counting the months, Craig. That's a commitment."

On the way to the front door, I stopped by Tweek and lugged him to his feet, half dragging him as he boisterously screamed something about needing a warm bath and a big cup of coffee. Inside, I gagged him with my hand and kicked the door shut behind Kenny. It was in the kitchen where Ruby and her friend were snacking on microwavable TV dinners that I lost control of the blonde. He stumbled up to the two girls, suddenly the social butterfly that I'm sure he's always wanted to be.

Ruby gawked at me, a fork sticking out of her mouth as the shy blonde boy she'd always thought of as her brother's silent friend turned into a talkative contraption full of slurred speech and unstable balance. There was literally nothing but garbled nonsense blundering from his mouth as he tried to introduce himself to Ruby's friend. The girl giggled and shook Tweek's hand when he practically ripped it from her lap.

"Keep him busy," I ordered, drifting into coffee mode as I fired up the beverage machine.

_I'm not awake enough for this._

_I have coffee grounds that I bought specifically just for Tweek._

_My bed is so close. It's calling me._

_I think this is a serious problem._

_Stripe's so alone up there in the dark by himself._

_Daddy's coming soon, baby. Don't worry._

All of these thoughts were storming through my head and the coffee wasn't coming out fast enough and I could hear Tweek blubbering away behind me and Kenny was laughing about something again and I just hadn't been made to deal with people so high strung.

At one point, Tweek slid behind me and wrapped his arms around my torso, chest flat against my back. Comfortable just breathing there, one of his legs gave out and the only thing keeping him up were his limbs seemingly glued to my skin. For being wasted, he had a surprisingly unbreakable hold. He must've thought he was still talking to Ruby because he kept mumbling something about "Your brother's so nice, he's so nice, Craig's so nice."

When his coffee was ready, I poured it into a mug and peeled his hands off my chest. I turned around and placed the steaming mug into his hands, holding my own over his and warning him that he had to be very careful, that taking care of this cup was his job for the night and breaking it would be very bad. "Do you understand?"

It didn't appear as though he did. He was more interested in staring at our hands, smiling down at them. I couldn't even see his, my own were too big. "You need to tell me that you understand, Tweek."

"_Mhmm. Mhmm. Mhmm._" Along with the elongated hums, he nodded his head, giggling when his stomach must've dropped.

Nope. There was no way I would be trusting him with a cup of hot coffee. "Do you even want this?"

He cried out "Yes!" to which I had to force the cup against his lips just to shut him up. It was painful watching him chug it, the _hot_ coffee.

Still at the table, conversing with my sister and her friend, was Kenny who I made eye contact with. Inclining my chin toward the staircase, the two of us began to move. Tweek followed, a finger hooked through one of my belt loops. As we left, I distinctly heard Ruby's friend ask whether or not I was gay. Kenny cuffed my shoulder to let me know he'd heard it as well. Wonderful.

Things felt safer once we'd reached my room. It wasn't that I cared about getting caught with the blondes. I'd shown up at home drunk before. It was more out of respect because there was no reason why my parents needed to be woken up so early in the morning. Flicking on my light, I wandered over to Stripe and apologized for how bipolar tonight was and would end up being. He didn't mind, stowing away inside of his plastic dome to give me the privacy he figured I wanted. At least that's what I interpreted it as.

Tweek and Kenny were already sprawled out on my bed when I turned around. There was an empty cup of coffee laying on the floor. "Nobody look," I warned. "I'm getting naked." My pants were already undone when a belated question straggled out of Tweek. He found me with his eyes, confused. For emphasis, I tugged on the flaps of my jeans and said, "I'm unleashing my dick. If you don't turn away now, boners will be imminent."

"I-I," Tweek stuttered, lost for a moment before determinedly looking away. "They would _not._" But his cheeks were glowing and it wasn't only because of his intoxication. Kenny's face was buried in my bed and his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"Are you challenging me?" I asked, meaning to tease the drunk boy from earlier, but he'd been replaced by this stubborn thing.

"You're a_ liar_."

"Then watch me," I said briefly. "But I can guarantee your pants will tent."

"N-no," he sputtered. "_No._ You're not _that_ attractive."

Kenny rolled over, enjoyment etched deep into his features.

"No?" I repeated, sauntering toward him with my jeans undone. "I'm just your first big crush? Plain old Craig Tucker?"

"You're not just plain old _Craig_ Tucker." He started giggling again, rolling over until he was half on top of Kenny. "I would say something," he announced spitefully. "But I don't want to give _you_ a boner."

Kenny gave me a look, his brows arched high. "It's possible to turn Craig on?"

The look Tweek gave me was flirtatiously threatening. We both knew what he was talking about. "Uh huh," he affirmed.

Eyes narrowing dangerously, I forbid him with the slight shake of my head that speaking of my weakness was not going to happen. He grinned insatiably, obviously thinking otherwise. My next step toward the bed was supposed to scare him into obedience. It didn't work. His laughter pilfered through the room, triggering Kenny's curiosity.

"Share this discovery of yours," he suggested to Tweek. The giggling blonde's eyes flickered between Kenny and mine.

Watching closely, I caught the mischievous bite of his lip and, just as he opened his mouth to give away my secret, I lunged at him.

A shriek was the only thing he managed to get out. That's when I had him from around the waist, lifted, and heaved onto the other side of my bed. On his back, he laughed boisterously, attempting to crawl onto his stomach but I was there before he could manage that, trapping him against my bed by his arms, legs straddling his waist.

"You just manhandled me!" He guffawed, twisting his wrists to no avail. It took one look at my body for him to shut up, giggles simmering away until nothing was left but his large, ogling eyes.

My jeans had ridden low, loose as they were, and it was noticeable the way my happy trail thickened the closer it got to my groin. I wasn't even completely revealed and he could barely handle me. Tweek got worked up so easily. His gaze flickered up to my own where he saw my knowing look, causing him to squawk out a speedy, "Okay! You win!"

Letting him go, I rolled sideways, just barely avoiding his pummeling fist that was too uncoordinated to make an impact, and landed on top of Kenny. The air rushed out of him, thoroughly delighting me. He shoved me off of him and I let the momentum of his push lure me off the side of the bed.

In that moment, my jeans snagged, and when I landed on the ground I called out, "Pants are off!"

I replaced them with a pair of sweats. When I got back to bed, Tweek had his mouth flush against Kenny's ear.

"You motherfucker," I accused, half growling.

"I'm sorry!" He cried.

Aware of how futile his apology was, he jumped to the opposite side of my bed as though he could escape me, but he was drunk and unstable and quickly took to falling like I had just seconds before. Our only difference was how graceless his plunge was. And his pants stayed on.

By the time I came around to his side, he was halfway beneath my bed and laughing hysterically. Grabbing Tweek by the ankles, I dragged him backwards, relishing in his frightened howl. He continued to spew apologies even when I covered his mouth with my hand and pretended to smash his head against my wall. When I thought he'd had enough, I peeled my fingers away and glowered down at him.

"C-can I tell you something?" He asked, grabbing my hand so he could wrap my arm around his shoulders. We were sitting on the floor next to Stripe. Tweek was half in my lap and he scooted closer, wrapping his legs around my waist for what might've been balance, but I doubted that. I hummed to let him know that I was listening. Quietly so as to keep the request from reaching Kenny's ears, he said, "You should manhandle me more often."

* * *

><p>Turns out he never even told Kenny the secret to turning me on. He was just a very convincing drunk. That or I was honestly terrified of anyone else finding out.<p>

It was just that I wanted my full name to be Tweek's thing. His and no one else's.


End file.
